Miles and States
by paraparadigm
Summary: "Liquor always made the yearning stronger." A foolish idea. A complete stranger. Innocent wishes on a cold winter's day. A nearly forgotten past hidden in a Grandfather's old coat. Sometimes one just has to believe in the impossible.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just on a major UsxUk kick at the moment. Series isn't mine and all that fun stuff. Enjoy_!

* * *

**_"I need you more than you know and I could never let you go."_**

Liquor always made the yearning stronger.

And as things currently stood, there was _a lot _of liquor currently rushing through Arthur Kirkland's veins. He'd somehow wrestled the emerald bottle from the barkeep and was swigging away happily as he ranted in some nonsense tone that no one could quite understand. He teetered dangerously on the edge of his bar stool, hiccuping and shaking the bottle with a vigor in an effort to somehow conjure more precious liquid inside.

There was no such luck for the man though. He was never a man gifted with luck of any sort. That was just the cards that he'd been dealt and he'd be damned if he was gonna let that get him down. All the same... He wanted some more of whatever the hell it was he'd been drinking for the past three hours.

"No more, you're bloody drunk." The surly barkeep grumbled this at the wavering man who had been glaring at him with his bloodshot eyes that were normally the same color of the battle he held in his hand. Now they were blurry with the effects of the drink, his disheveled blonde hair falling haphazardly across them as his thick brows drew together in agitation.

"I'm the one," a hiccup momentarily silenced him, "Who's paying you here you git, you'd...do well...to just give me the...damn drink." His words slurred together but the barkeep was well used to men of this sort. They frequented his dark corners often enough for him to recognize the signs. The men that had given up on life, the ones that thought the truth to all of the world's questions lay at the bottom of a bottle.

They were all the same.

"Listen to me now buddy, I've let you stink up my bar for a vast majority of the evening, you're lucky I didn't throw you out on your hide earlier. Thankfully I was up for earning a few extra pounds, now you've gone and aggravated me, get yourself home." Like the burly man would understand what he was thinking. Arthur grinned, proffered the man the international symbol of displeasure and then smashed the empty bottle against the wall just over the man's head.

"I don't wan't anymore of your awful drink...anyway!" He wavered on his feet, stumbling forward in anxiety when it appeared as if the man was going to jump over the bar and beat the living daylights out of him. There was a good deal of cheering as he stumbled towards the door and straight into a new patron. "Watchwhereya going you bloody idiot." He shoved the man away from him so he could get by, only to find that the taller figure grabbed him by that same arm and toss him up against the wall with a quick soldier's movements.

"That's not very nice of you. I thought you Englishmen were supposed to have manners." The force of the movement had knocked the breath out of him, his bleary bloodshot eyes flickered up in the lazy way of the inebriated and he smiled vaguely.

"Mos't of us aren' when we've been..." He struggled for a moment to find the right word. "Thirsty." The man that had him pinned to the wall let out a loud peal of laughter that made him cringe.

"I'd say you're more than thirsty dude!" Oh that accent... He was most definitely a tourist, an _American_tourist. They always were the worst. "Looks like you must've had a reason though." Arthur tried to get a steady identification of this crazy man but all he could see was a tall blur with a head of messy gold hair. Just his luck... drunk and attempting conversation. At this time he just wanted to get his sorry butt home and into his bed.

He'd have plenty to suffer through in the morning without drinking with this American bloke on top of everything else. Gently he attempted to push the man away from him.

"No, thanks." This earned another peal of that brash laughter, it made him feel as if though he was turning red from his ears to his toes. He thought he heard the bartender say something about if they were going to carry on like queers then they needed to take that outside. He really hoped that wasn't what he'd heard... It's not like he hadn't heard it before.

But as he'd often said before, liquor made the yearning stronger. The man shouted something back to the barkeep and before Arthur was quite aware of what was happening he was being dragged out of the same door he'd been heading towards only moments ago. It was that stupid American dragging him out into the harsh winter wind. Arthur didn't like the winter on a normal basis, but for some reason he didn't feel so cold just yet, even though he'd forgotten his coat back at the office.

"Are all of you Brits so uptight?" The taller man seemed to grin, or at least it kind of seemed like it, his eyes still wouldn't focus so well.

"Of course. That's whatall o' you think of us isn' it? All of you are the same..." He began to stumble down the sidewalk, hoping the cold air would knock some clarity back into his head. This was a tender subject as it was, he didn't need some stupid tourist telling him what he'd only heard a few months ago from that damned Frenchman. Spend a few years with a man and you would think that he'd have gotten over your obsessive habits... But nooo, Francis was a "free spirit", he had to roam.

To Jenny, Marlene, Emily, Anne. Women the lot of them. Probably had a few other men in there as well but he preferred not to think about it. Sometimes he still liked to imagine that what he'd had there was something good... Ha. If anything it made him worse than he'd been before. And why the hell was that damned tourist following him?

"You're a funny guy, how about I give you a ride home?" One of those hands that had restrained him landed heartily on his back, Arthur had to resist the urge to vomit all over his favorite shoes. Instead he glared over at the still blurry man.

"Why the hell do you think I would want that?" He felt like he had sandpaper in his throat, like he was choking on the words even as they scratched his vocal cords raw. Again the man laughed, did he just find every bloody thing hilarious?

"So you don't end up in another bar... Or an alleyway. Call it a heroic deed." He held out his hand with a thumbs up, that much he could make out. Arthur immediately deduced that this man was a complete loony. Completely and utterly off his rocker. But then again... The idiot did have a point, and he doubted he had money for any transportation home at all.

"Fine." For a moment the tourist stood there as if shocked by his quick acquiescence. How like an American, they offered help and then never followed through. Almost as bad as the French... _Almost. _"Or not, you bloody idiot." He turned again to continue on his slightly steadier journey down the sidewalk. It was only within a few loud strides that the tourist had overtaken him.

"Sorry, i was surprised, no one ever actually lets me help em' out around here." Well, now that his vision was just slightly sharper thanks to the frigid temperatures he could make out the spark in deep blue eyes and a very pleasant smile on the tourist.

"If you offer," a hiccup, "don't be surprised when someone... actually accepts." He combed a hand quickly through his messy hair, feeling suddenly ashamed of his appearance. Not that he really should. He was not hitting on this tourist. He was drunk and just getting a ride home. Who cared if the warm liquor in his veins had him feeling a bit more confident than normal, it didn't change the fact that he was Arthur bloody Kirkland and that he was, according to his ex, "a complete and utter tightass".

"Sure thing dude! Just don't freak out at my driving... I'm still not quite used to your weird cars around here yet." That really was just his luck, well, lack there of. This guy already had proven himself to be completely crazy, cute in a really weird drunken way, but still... He must have been insane to be going along with this.

Suddenly a grand idea struck him, just a bit of internal vindication. Francis liked to think he lacked any spontaneity, any sense of his "free spirit", he'd show that asshole! A leery sort of grin settled over his face that was considered handsome by some.

"Should be fun, _dude_." It felt weird to use the American's slang, but it kind it was also weirdly liberating in the same breath. Once again he found the taller man's arm slung carelessly over his shoulder as he began steering him down the familiar and mostly empty sidewalk. It didn't stop the other travelers from giving them weird looks over their scarves, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

Must've been the liquor. He hadn't ever let Francis do something like this, he'd kept everything looking strictly professional in public. It was the true English thing to do.

"So how do ya like it here? I mean I figure you've probably lived her for like ever, but is there a buncha cool stuff? I always wanted to come see London, but you know so far a lot of you Brits are really rude, no offense or anything... It's just I thought you would be a bit more fun, I mean in all of the movies I've seen..." Arthur rubbed his forehead in between his finger and his thumb, this guy never shut up. Well at least he could just ignore him, stare at the kind of cute smile, the coolly confident stride and the warm arm still companionably slung over him.

He reminded himself to never drink again.

"Could you not so talk much?" Arthur stumbled a bit, his ability to concentrate seemed to be slipping in and out. "I don' feel so good..._dude_." This seemed to earn a more exasperated laugh, but it was a gentle one. Not condescending or anything, just amused at his plight. Arthur's brows drew together in frustration as he attempted to glare sternly at the taller man.

"No problem man, I talk a lot when I'm nervous..." Well that was a surprise. He never would have guessed that the man was nervous. Or at least, that he would admit to it. Must have been the easy trust of dealing with a drunk man that would most likely have no recollection in the morning. Thankfully enough the man increased their pace when a vaguely familiar parking garage came into view.

They were only a block away from the apartment that Francis still had in town. An evil idea that never should have even come to mind suddenly seemed like utter perfection. Arthur grinned and halted suddenly in his stumbling steps. He prayed that even though, drunk as he obviously was, he still had some of the charm that he supposedly possessed.

"Could I ask you another quick favor?" He hated the low grate that the liquor had caused in his voice, he smiled to cover up for his discomfort. "I...have a friend that lives just down the block, could we stop there first? I have...I have..." Man his brain was feeling really fuzzy again, couldn't possibly be a good sign. "I have something important I need to tell him." The American's blonde brows drew together in a surprisingly studious expression.

"Is that such a good idea man? I mean you are pretty smashed." It was obvious that he didn't very much enjoy denying Arthur, he was trying to be helpful. Unfortunately for him, Arthur had a way better use for his time. He moved just a little closer to the American, his hand placed subtly on the front of his dark blue sweater.

"It's really important, you have my word as an Englishman." A slightly hesitant smile slid across the taller man's face, but it was quickly obvious that he wasn't going to deny his comrade anything.

"Fine fine. Can't turn away an interesting guy like you." Again he found that arm tossed around his shoulders as they made their way to a very...interesting looking vehicle. Like a sportscar of some kind or another. It was more than a little bit of a surprise. Apparently this guy was pretty well off, had a nice job or something. He shouldn't have found that an attractive quality, but he did.

"Thanks..." It suddenly came to mind that he didn't know the man's name. Though, it would be foolish for him to ask now. Well, it wasn't like he was going to seem him again after this strange night was over. With a grin he watched as the man actually opened the car door for him... It was oddly sweet. What a shame that they'd met under these circumstances, he could really have...

He really shouldn't have been having those thoughts. It had been a lucky coincidence that lead him here. And he was going to use him to get back at that douchebag Francis. That's what it really boiled down to. Why he'd been in that rundown bar to begin with. All because he was still pining over that frilly, loose, manner-less jerk. It really was pathetic to say the least. His thoughts were interrupted the moment he slid into the passenger seat and the man was filling the silence once more.

"Okay, so you're gonna have to give me directions, you can remember where your friend is, right? Are you sure he's even home, I mean it is a Friday night after all and I don't know about you Brits, but back home most everyone liked to go partying on Fridays..." Arthur found himself putting his head in his hands and grumbling his response. This had to pay off in the end. Otherwise he'd probably never be able to stop...

"When you pull out of the garage, take a right. Follow that street down to the first light, take another right and then the house will be the third on the left. It'll be all decked out in Christmas lights." That was right, Francis had an obsession with making his house the brightest on the street. A townhouse lighting up one of the older parts of town, at first he'd found it vaguely charming. Funny even.

Now it just proved what he knew to begin with.

Francis was in it for the attention. It was always about attention for him. Having to have the nicest houses, the nicest cars, the nicest women to feed his ego. Hell he'd even had him, perhaps not the best prize, but still. He was a picky man, he had refined tastes and he had more than a little bit of trouble relating to people. When he'd first met Francis, well, he'd hated him. Saw everything that drove him crazy about men. Saw everything that he would never be.

And then he'd given in.

"Are you goin' to be okay man, you don't look so good." That harsh American accent pierced Arthur's moment of self-pity. He had to stay focused if this was going to have even the most remote chance of success.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just the drink taking hold." He made it sound like a bit of a joke, but with the way this man was driving it seemed he'd have no trouble explaining himself if he happened to spill his guts all over the vehicle. Apparently the American really didn't know how to drive. The man laughed, his head tilting back in a moment of pure amusement. There really was something vaguely attractive about him.

He shook his head to dispel the notion.

There was a harsh squealing of tires as the man took the second corner at break-neck speed, Arthur really was hard put to keep the contents of his stomach in order. And all the time the American was chuckling to himself. Handsome, but crazy. Yeah, there was no way that he was going to see this man again.

"Gotta have a sense of adventure man!" He was loud, and brash and just plain weird. Not his type at all. At least Francis had his moments of refinement. Damn. He really had to get that guy out of his head. Well... Now was the time, that house was in view. The lights were glaring, a technicolor massacre. Just like they always were. There were some things that would just never change. Arthur took a moment to regain his breath.

"I. Do. Thank you very much." His deep green eyes seemed to be a tad clearer, or at least that's how they looked to the American. It was an improvement at least. "How about you, would you like to meet my, err, " Arthur nearly choked on the word, "Friend." The man's face seemed to light up, it seemed there was nothing that did not amuse him in some way or another. _How nice it must be to have such a light spirit. _

He stumbled out of the car, the ground didn't want to stay still beneath his feet. He couldn't believe he was here, that he was going to really see... That he was finally going to be able to get even the tiniest hint of revenge. Dizziness overwhelmed him, but in hardly a moment's time there was that warm hand at his back and that loud voice at his ear.

"You sure, you're alright?"

"Never better." He grimaced at the words, taking a confident stride forward now. This was it. There was something that spoke volumes of the man he was in the way he moved now. Long strides, unwavering even though it was obvious that the drink had done well to cloud his mind. Somehow he managed to make it up that sidewalk, up those front steps, all without falling. He stopped at the door though, turning to proffer a wink to the boistrous man that had fallen a few steps behind him. "Well get up here, you're going to like this guy."

He sure hoped not. He hoped that he would be able to see through that heavy French accent and those leering smiles. A foolish ex's single wish for the tiniest hint of revenge on the man that had hurt him. There was perhaps one breath, in which the man first stood beside him and his fist pounded against the door where he felt that perhaps this wasn't the best idea in the world.

The sharp staccato sound of his knock made it quickly obvious that there was no turning back. Especially not when he heard a hearty chuckle followed by a voice that he'd really never wanted to hear again.

"I'm coming, don't run away _mon cher_!" Francis must've been expecting company. Well, wouldn't he be surprised? Nausea threatened to overtake him. " 'Ere I am, come in come in, it's a cold night and I'd hate for your lovely-" The man's voice cut short, bright blue eyes opened wide and he found himself stumbling for words. "Why, Arthur, I did not think...It's been...So nice...Who's your friend?" In that moment he was as utterly blindesided as his loathed ex had been. Surprisingly, the American managed to keep his mouth shut. Probably realized that it was rude to speak up.

That or he sensed there was something wrong with him. Neither seemed much like what he'd seen of the man thus far, but he was silently grateful for it. Even if his next words would throw everything into complete chaos. He gulped before turning his now vivid green eyes towards the man in the doorway who was nervously running a hand through his wavy gold hair.

"Francis," He stood a little straighter and fixed the collar of his shirt, "this is my..._fiance_." Again there was silence. For a much longer period of time now. All in which glances where desperately exchanged between all parties involved. It was awkward, terse... And for the American, completely and totally unexpected. How he managed to not utter a single word truly confused the now profusely blushing Arthur.

It was Francis to break the silence.

"I don't believe you." He crossed his arm, and a cruel smile had settled across his features. Not unlike the one he'd adopted when he'd broken up with Arthur. "Zere is something entirely too strange about this...even for you." Arthur opened his mouth to speak but found that the American was now speaking with a rapidity yet to be conceived.

"Hey there buddy! You'd better believe it! Kinda sudden, but this guy's a total romantic! Shoulda seen him, love at first sight and everything. A little weird at first, but hey bro, who could resist him?" Arthur was officially mortified. The man had actually gone and said it. Had lied for him. Had covered his ass for no apparent reason. Francis's glower only seemed to deepen at those words, mostly upon seeing the heinous blush falling across Arthur's face.

"He is not much of a romantic. I do believe he 'as fooled you little boy." Now that really cut. Of course Francis didn't stop there, not with that dark spark in his blue eyes. " Zis man is an uptight asshole. He can hardly stand to 'ave someone 'olding his 'and much less loving zem at first sight. It's just not in his nature." That last part seemed to have been added as if it would soften the blow. If anything... It hurt more. Arthur was feeling dizzy again, he wobbled on the front step caught somewhere between wanting to throw his guts up and wanting to punch Francis straight in his smug face.

Surprisingly enough, the American smiled.

"Must be that you didn't treat him right. You musta been one awful boyfriend for him to act like that. This is the kindest dude I've ever met! He's spontaneous and hilarious. Not to mention one hell of a lover, though I somehow doubt you knew that." Before Arthur could open his mouth to foolishly ruin the charade he'd been grabbed around the waist by those warm hands. He'd been pulled up and then he was being kissed.

And it wasn't half bad.

This had to be the craziest night of his life. It was the American to pull away from him, to toss a playful grin and then turn towards Francis. All Arthur could do was stare.

"You're an idiot bro. Shoulda never let him go, cause he's all mine now." He didn't even give Francis a chance to reply,instead he tossed that arm around his shoulders and steered them back towards the car. Arthur couldn't think, couldn't breathe. What in the hell had just happened here? He'd never thought... Never planned. A complete and total stranger. Kissed him. In front of Francis.

He didn't even know his name.


	2. Chapter 2

_**"So here I stand. I'm ready for anything. Just a man, but I'm giving everything."**_

It was a rare moment for Arthur Kirkland to be knocked speechless.

Even now, he sat staring blankly at the windshield of a sports car as a man he didn't know sped through the streets of London at break-neck speed, heading God knows where as he tried to collect his thoughts. Amazingly enough, the driver was also silent. Dark blue eyes steadily stayed upon the road, a smirk was set on his mouth and Arthur was trying very hard to not stare at him.

He'd picked him up inside a beaten down old bar, had stood up with him against Francis, had lied for him. He'd _kissed _him. All of a sudden he felt terribly self-conscious. Furitively he wiped at his mouth, trying desperately to forget the feel of those lips. Because all of a sudden, that was _all _he could feel. This earned a chuckle from the driver as he breaked harshly so as not to run the red light just ahead of them.

"You alright over there?" That blunt American accent claimed his attention, his green eyes flickered lazily over to assess the man.

"As alright as I'll ever be."

"You know, you should probably tell me where you live so I can get you home." What Arthur said next stunned both of the men.

"I don't want to go home."

Again silence fell. Palpable and suffocating. Arthur felt as though his face was on fire, and nausea threatened once more as the man slammed on the gas the moment the light turned green. Another minute passed and neither man spoke. He felt a grand fool for all of this. Sure he could blame his drinking, but that was only part of it. An excuse to be as spontaneously reckless as he could never truly be.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that you Brits aren't as uptight as you look." Of course it was the American to break the silence. It was with an amused sigh, there was a new set to his shoulders now. Like, just maybe he wasn't quite so reckless as he tended to come across as. Arthur looked sleepily outside his window, just his luck. He'd found the one guy that could kiss him on a moment's notice and then back down when he made any sort of advance.

Somewhere there was a higher power laughing at him.

"Well if you want to take me home then I suggest you take a left up ahead." His voice was dreary, slightly defeated. There was a surprising peal of that loud laughter that made his clover eyes open wide.

"I never said I wouldn't just keep you with me tonight Arthur." He hadn't expected the man to have caught his name. It made him feel absolutely terrible considering he'd never asked for his. Maybe it was better this way though. Just one night, practically anonymous. The liquor still swimming headily through his veins said that was the best possible outcome he could hope for in the given situation. "You just caught me by surprise is all! And you can trust me, that's an awful difficult thing to do."

There was something oddly comforting about that hell for leather attitude the man posessed. He didn't do anything halfway. Maybe his mind had been made up the moment he'd offered the ride, and maybe Arthur's had been made up the moment he accepted. Either way, he had a feeling that this was somehow the best thing to be doing.

That for one night, he could just go with it.

"Have to learn to be on your toes around us or you'll never get anywhere." His attempt at a joke was weak at best, although it was still enough for the American's smile to grow wider. He squinted his eyes as if he was having trouble making out one of the road signs and then made a very...rough...right turn. They were right in the bustle of the city now, crowded clubs and other men and women of roughly his age wandering the streets with hints of raucous laughter. Not even the cold surpressed the spirits here.

The American seemed fascinated, as if he'd never seen such a simple sight before. At the very least it made him slow his speed to something far more acceptable within the city limits, and to be careful to not hit any wandering pedestrians. (They were quite numerous at this time of night.) A little ways ahead Arthur could just make out a rather nice looking hotel, it looked nice against the winter night skyline. He'd always had a weakness for the city. Made him feel like he was a part of something.

Kind of a strange attitude to have no doubt, but he relished it all the same.

"I think I'll never get anywhere anyway." This was a reference to how slow the American was now forced to drive. He had a very humorous look on his face, mouth set in a strange expression towards the right side of his face. It was a very weird sort of smirk. Arthur found it almost hilariously adorable, especially with the way the man's blonde hair almost falling across his lovely blue eyes.

He made a very handsome picture.

"Just honk, they'll move." It was beyond strange for him to suggest such a thing, but he was finding it awfully imperative that they get up to the man's room already. He wanted more of those surprising kisses. He wanted those warm hands to make him forget any others. He just wanted to lose himself in the moment. There was a very loud blaring noise in almost no time at all as the man pressed down with too much vigor on the car horn.

Arthur found himself unable to hold back a laugh. This was one strange man he'd wandered upon, child-like in a way that wasn't immaturity so much as innocence. Sure under normal circumstances..._Sober_ circumstances, he'd be completely offended. But now, now it just made him laugh in an unrestrained way that he hadn't done in so long. It was such a great feeling. Like an overwhelming bubbling in his chest. Like a release of the things that had been holding him back thus far.

It was obvious that the American was shocked by Arthur's sudden laughter, though he covered well enough weth that grin of his. That easy, simple, charming grin. Pedestrians scattered and the car launched forward with a new burst of speed. Fueled now by the urge to hear another laugh, to see another smile. Perhaps a whole minute later, (give or take), they had made it to the parking lot of the fine hotel.

"Well here we are, home sweet temporary home!" He was beginning to grow fond of that brash American sound. Sure it was blatantly disrespectful for proper English, but it was very...innocent. Very loose and relaxed. Arthur found himself grinning as he got out of the car, his steps were slightly steadier this time, it didn't stop the American from putting that arm around his shoulders again. He had nothing against this of course. The man was warm and he felt quite comfortable being with a man that was taller than him, that was so carefree and warm.

Such a change of pace.

"And how far up do you happen to be?" It was an idle question, stemming mostly from Arthur's displeasure of elevators and the fact that he wanted to be somewhere private as soon as possible. The American caught his gaze and winked. He seemed to find a grand amusement on whatever he was about to say.

"All the way at the top Arthur." He'd be lying if he didn't appreciate the sound of his name on the man's tongue, and he'd also be lying if he didn't wish to know the man's name as well. Though he figured that if the man had wanted him to know by now, he would have told him. This was only a simple thing after all. Nothing too complicated for him anymore. No strings attached.

It was possible to be content with just one night, wasn't it?

Anxiously Arthur scanned the building. There had to be well over thirty floors. He'd be inside one of those cramped little death boxes for a good deal of time before they reached the room. He forced himself to be steady, he could do this. He was not scared... And the payoff was definitely worth it.

"Perfect." He returned that wink, quite unable to help himself as they made their way towards the building. At least the wind did wonders to help him feel slightly more alert, made him feel like he could handle this with some measure of grace. The American held him close as they entered they walked through the front doors and the blasting heat, amazingly enough it didn't make him want to pull away. He didn't even care what any bystanders might think of two men walking around like this.

He really was beginning to lose it if he didn't care so much.

"You know, I always have loved elevators." The man's voice echoed headily in his ear as he pressed the button to call the death-trap down. Arthur gulped in attempt to maintain his composure. "Don't know why, but they've always been super fun, don'tcha think?" He couldn't tear himself away from those earnest blue eyes, he forced a smile to the surface.

"Love them." There was a sharp ding to announce the arrival of the awful thing and Arthur nearly jumped straight up into the air. He had to remain cool, collected. It wasn't going to be that bad. Thankfully enough, they managed to get the machine to themselves, it would have been dreadful if it had been super crowded like they were wont to be around here. He stepped inside hesitantly and cringed when the doors slid shut, caught his breath when the man did indeed push the button that would take them to the top floor.

Crummy default music filtered fuzzily through the speakers. Arthur found himself squinting his eyes shut and counting the little ridges that signaled each rising floor. Naturally this earned a skepticle laugh from the American.

"Dude, you look kinda green." Gingerly he touched Arthur's chin, tilting it up so that the man would be forced to look him in the eyes. When Arthur actually managed to open them that is. His breath caught and his concentration scattered like so many leaves into the gutter.

"Err...It's cause, well. I'm not very good in tiny spaces." Well that was true enough. The American's brows drew together in concerned frustation.

"You shoulda told me. I wouldn't have minded taking the stairs." At least three more floors had been passed and no one had yet to get on with them. Arthur tried to look away from the taller man as he felt that he was beginning to blush again.

"Well, this was faster. And I'm no coward I'll have you know." This last bit was said with a bit of ruffled pride. Arthur didn't often like to admit his weaknesses, and he definitely didn't want the chance that they might be ridiculed.

"Never woulda thought so." The American grinned as he leaned in a little closer, his lips hardly a breath away from Arthur's. Now this was a tempting test indeed. It was hardly a breath before Arthur let out a low chuckle as he wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist and pulled him all the closer. And only a breath after that they were kissing again. It was hardly discernible who covered the meager distance, not that it really mattered, because hey, they were kissing again.

It was obviously different this time. So much... Headier. Heavier. Deeper. Whatever adjective suited either's fancy. Arthur squeezed his arms around the man's waist even as those warm hand wound through his disheveled hair. He found himself ground into one of the walls of the elevator, his breath coming in rough gasps as those lips moved against his. It had been so long. And this felt so... It felt so damn good!

He let out a low sound of pleasure that allowed the man to slip his tongue past his lips. Let him tempt him with a different taste as his hands tightened in his hair, tugging with perhaps more vigor than he realized. Their hips pressed together, moving subtly in a way that made both men extraordinarily aware of just how arousing the situation was. And then there was that ding.

That damn ding!

They'd made it to the top floor and Arthur had hardly realized they'd been moving at all. They pulled apart with more than a hint of reluctance, their eyes were locked as they attempted to regain their breath.

"Well." Naturally it was the American to break the silence. "I do believe that this is our stop." He winked, taking Arthur's hand and pulling him out of the elevator behind him. He stumbled for a moment, but couldn't lose the grin that had managed to creep across his features. At least now his mind was more fogged over by that kiss than the alcohol. A new kind of langor had suffused his body alongside the obvious coursing effects of long witheld desires.

They stopped at a room somewhere in the middle of the hallway, the number was 586, for some reason Arthur found it imperative to log that number away in the back of his mind. A grin and slightly nervous laughter was exchanged as the American swiped his card through the lock and waited for the beep that cleared their entrance. Neither heard the beep, they'd already begun kissing once more. Arthur was the one to turn the door handle though, causing them to nearly fall right through the door into the room.

As it was, they only stumbled. Laughed a little and then the American pushed the door shut behind him. Already his hands were deftly undoing the buttons of Arthur's shirt, hungrily revealing the pale skin that lay underneath. His mouth traveled down his neck as he shoved the shirt from his shoulders, as he hardly remembered to loosen the tie that had been deftly tucked under the collar. Naturally, it came off rather quickly as well.

Without missing a beat they had managed to make it over to the decently large bed in the center of the room, scattering clothes as they went. It left a very interesting trail that was for sure. Arthur's shirt and tie, his favorite grey slacks, the American's heavy blue sweater and his well worn jeans. Shoes had been lost somewhere in there as well, as well as socks. Now all that remained were the boxers.

How quickly passion made things move!

Arthur could hardly concentrate on anything else. Those lips were on his again, rough and yet smoothly talented. Pressure that coaxed a groan from the back of his throat. A hand traveled down to his boxers, gliding over the soft cotton and teasing the aching erection beneath the fabric and he found it extraordinarily difficult to hold back yet another gasp. The man laughed low and playfully in his ear, only making his arousal worse.

Tongue flickered over his collarbone as that hand deftly pulled that last garment away and left his erection fully exposed to the attentions of that questing hand. Massaging it with the expertise only another man could ever master. Arthur found himself arching up into that touch as the American's mouth moved back up and found his once more.

There were too many sensations at once. His head was foggy enough as it was. And yet, he could never recall feeling so aware of all the sensations racing over his super sensitive skin. From the feeling of the lips that he kissed with an unknown ardor to the way their skin glided over one another as that damnable hand worked his erection, it was all catalogued. Memorized in blazing perfection for those lonely nights he knew would come again soon enough.

"M-mph..You know..." His voice was heavy in the bedroom, intermingling already with the sounds of pleasure regularly exchanged between them now. "You never did tell me, your name." This earned another hearty chuckle from the American who squeezed his erection with rueful skill very nearly pushing him over the edge with the combination of the two.

"Never thought you'd ask." A quick kiss to his lips as the man trailed kisses along his jaw. "The name's Alfred. And you can feel free to say it as much as you like." He nipped playfully at the same spot that he'd just kissed and Arthur had a feeling that his eyes were about to roll into the back of his head. That hand pumped a little faster now, subtly harder, daring him to the brink. His self-control was already waning. Damn alcohol.

When Alfred kissed him again, well that was it. He said that name out loud for the first time, relishing the taste of it on his lips even as the rush of orgasm overwhelmed him. It wasn't the last time for either occurence that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**_"And don't you dare say we can just be friends. I'm not some boy that you can sway."_**

As might have been expected, Arthur Kirkland woke up at the crack of dawn with a heinous hangover.

When he tried to move a hand to brush his tangled hair away from his face he found that it was being inhibited by the weight of a man who in turn had an arm thrown casually around his waist. Gingerly he maneuvered to free himself from that sleeping grasp, careful more because of the throbbing in his head than waking the unconscious fellow who seemed quite impervious to any movements at all.

He sat on the edge of the bed, abandoning the tangled sheets as he rested his head in his hands. There was a steady beat of doldrums in his skull echoing with crushing loudness with every beat of his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd hoped that he'd been dreaming. Unfortunately for him, reality could not be escaped.

For the first time in his twenty-two years he, Arthur Kirkland, had slept with a complete and total stranger.

Sure he could blame the amount of liquor he had consumed, and he could blame it on some premature midlife crisis, but it didn't change the reality of what he had done. His clover eyes flickered over the sleeping bloke he'd run off with. That strange, loud, captivating American.

Alfred.

He hadn't managed to catch a last name with that, but maybe it was better this way. Less to get attached to. Less to worry over when at last it came to Sunday and he was forced to acknowledge the sins of the week. Which appeared to be far more numerous than they ever were.

That gold hair held a rosy tint in the light of the rising sun spilling through the window, there was a tan on that skin that he hadn't noticed in the evening light, there was the curves of the muscles he had memorized before falling into slumber. Every single cell seemed to burn with his memory. Far stronger than one would expect after the amount of drink he had consumed. This was an extraordinarily strange situation.

Should he stay? Should he leave before the man woke?

What exactly was the etiquette for such situations? Arthur's lithe fingers wound through his messy hair as he considered all of his options. As he wondered what a true gentleman would do, even if his behaviour last night had been anything but refined. Heaving a heavy sigh he figured that the very least he could do would be to take a shower to clear the pounding fog his mind was currently encased in. If the man... _If Alfred_ hadn't woke by then, well he'd just leave.

Maybe leave him a note or something. Or maybe not. He had hoped for something with no strings attached, hadn't he?

His balance was shaky at best as he got up off the bed, as he stumbled in the direction that the bathroom that he'd hardly noticed last night. There seemed to be a shock-wave resounding thump with each step forward he took, and for a moment he thought that he would really lose his guts. Sure he'd managed to go the entirety of last night without getting sick, it didn't mean that the after-effects would be quite so easy.

Perhaps it was that he had recently developed a better tolerance for liquor, or perhaps it was pure English stamina, either way, he managed to keep his insides intact the entire way to the restroom where within he immediately slumped against the wall. A quick glance in the mirror told him that he looked a complete and utter mess. The shower idea had been quite ingenious.

Though the moment that he turned the water on, well, he very highly regretted it. It was such a thundering sound, made him nearly fall forward with his head in his hands like a petulant child. He grumbled some sort of swear as he adjusted the water to the proper temperature and pulled the nob thing that turned the shower head on. The force of the spray was quite...intense, so much so that it brought the needs of his bladder to quick attention.

Making it so that it was a moment longer before he stepped under the violent spray.

He gritted his teeth as the water rushed over him, the temperature may have been quite perfect but the sound and the piercing pressure of the cascading water did nothing to help his pounding skull. With perhaps too much vigor on his part he grabbed at one of those tiny ass bottles of shampoo that the staff were always to kind to provide and dumped a vast majority on his now sopping wet hair.

The shock of the cold soap made him say things that a gentleman should never utter. He silently prayed that the ...eloquation...did not wake the sleeping Alfred. For once it appeared as if he was having a stroke of luck so that he managed to finish his shower in peace. There was a single towel on the rack that he grabbed with a furtive quickness, drying with a speedy efficiency seen on the rarest days.

After managing to pull most of the moisture out of his hair with the now slightly abused towel he wrapped it around his waist and went to gather the pieces of his scattered clothes. Thankfully the trail was easy enough to figure out after a few moments of studying. Shirt and tie were rather close to the door, the shoes had been kicked off next followed soon after by his grey slacks and his socks. There always a method to such things.

Even if it was drastically different from what he had come to expect.

A quick glance over to the bed told him that Alfred was still out like a light. Strangely enough he found a small smile settling in the corner of his mouth as he looked at the man. There again was the admiration for that carefree spirit. He didn't have work today... He could while away the lazy Saturday alongside this man, could show him the sites he'd been so curious over. But then again...

That would be forming an attachment, wouldn't it?

He picked up his boxers last, still smiling ever so faintly. And then in the same methodical way that he did everything, he began to get dressed. He settled the towel across his shoulders as he shimmied into his pants and then jammed his arms through his shirt sleeves. Just like always. The same procedures even under the strangest of circumstances. All the while though, he studied that sleeping man.

Ironic that he should go with this one. Of all the strangers in the entirety of London, it just had to be someone that it would never possible work with in real life. Not only because he was surely only here for a short time, but because he was everything that he could never be.

He still couldn't believe how he'd handled Francis. That he'd said... And that he'd gone along with. Yeah, those blurry minutes would probably come back to haunt him in time. Mostly since there really was no chance of recovering things now.

All of these thoughts with a now slightly less distracting hangover as he buttoned his shirt, even before he had a traditional cup of tea to wake himself up. It was pretty impressive actually. Though now...He was dressed. Awake and ready for the day. And Alfred was still fast asleep. He really had no reason to stay... And he had told himself as much. But still, it felt somewhat wrong. To leave without a word. To leave and never look back.

Even if it was exactly what he had wanted in the first place.

He really was a damn fool. Sighing he went and folded the towel up and left it by the sink, and then he wandered back into the main part of the room. He spotted a note pad of sorts over by the telly, might as well leave some sort of note. No harm in that after all. Thankfully enough there was also a ballpoint pen next to the paper. The room was basically telling him to mind his manners. Seriously, it wasn't like he had a choice.

Not really. Not ever. This was just his nature. So it was perhaps with just a hint of chagrin that he penned a quick note.

_Alfred,_

_I'm not quite gifted with words, so I would like to thank you for a great night. It was wonderful to meet you. Hope you have a wonderful time here in London._

_If you want anyone to show you around give me a ring and I'll do my best to get back to you. xxx-xxxx_

_Best Regards, Arthur Kirkland_

For a moment he couldn't believe that he was actually giving the bloke his number, but then again, the chances of him actually calling were slim to none. It was just proper manner to handle things this way. He placed the note on the bedside stand next to where Alfred was still happily sleeping. He grinned down a bit on the content man, resisted the urge to give him a kiss farewell settling instead for ruffling that golden hair.

And then he turned and left the room before the man could possibly wake up. There was a strange lump in his throat as he did so. He really had to stop getting so attached. It was all just random possibilities. It was chance. Nothing more. Sure it had been wonderful and spontaneous and completely unlike him, but it didn't mean it could become a regular part of his life.

That would ruin the charm of it.

As he strode down the hallway he straightened his tie for good measure. It was a reassuring habit. Made him feel slightly more confident. Or at the very least, confident enough to take the elevator to the ground floor. He just might have earned a new fondness for them.

There was a sharp ding as the doors opened, muffled music filtered through the old speakers as he stepped inside, with a grin set quite contentedly upon his mouth he pressed the button for the proper floor. He could almost swear that he heard that loud laugh at his ear as he closed his eyes. Without truly realizing it, he fell into the memory where that laughter had been followed by a kiss.

He nearly jumped straight into the ear when he reached his destination. That ding summoned him from his reverie; his blonde brows drew together in just the slightest hint of agitation. Damn that ding.

****xxxx****

It was nearly noon by the time that Alfred Jones finally let his blue eyes drift open. He yawned, stretching his sleep coiled muscles and immediately felt a thousand times better. And then those eyes seemed to narrow, squinting as if he was having trouble getting the room to come into focus. He turned over onto his side and looked at the other side of the bed.

It was empty.

He should have guessed. The sheets were still crumpled in the shape of the man that had lay there though they were no longer warm. It was with a sigh that he pushed himself up into a sitting position and considered the night before. There had been something about that man. He had looked so lost. There was no way that he was just going to let him wander alone on a cold night like that.

And he had been so handsome. So captivating even in that slightly inebriated state he had been in.

Then something caught his eye. A scrap of paper with the hotel's insignia at the top and words scrawled in a hardly legible hand, the words morphing together to form a spidery black few lines. He grumbled to himself as he wandered over to his bag and fished out a pair of silver framed glasses and perched them upon his face. He absolutely hated wearing these glasses.

Heroes didn't wear glasses except when they were undercover, but at least they had cool ones. These just made him feel like an old man.

He trudged back over to the note and scanned over it. Almost immediately he had a very bright grin on his rather animated face. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with inner joy. The man, that Arthur, he'd left his number. At the very least that was something. Sure he wrote like most of the Brits talked, but hey he could deal with that.

Mainly cause that meant he had his number. He could see him again.

Without really realizing it, he let out a rather loud whoop of triumph. There had been something different about that guy, he'd known it! It wasn't like he went around sleeping with random guys of the street on a regular basis. Only this once. There was just something...captivating in those super green eyes. Sure it seemed like the guy had some problems, but who didn't?

There had been that French guy too... His ex-boyfriend or something. Everyone came with their damage, and he was a hero wasn't he? Could salvage this man? That amusing and off-kilter man who kissed so well. Who said his name in a breathless whisper. Who was unlike anyone else he'd ever met. Well, there was only one thing left for him to do now. He would give Arthur a call. He'd get to know him, get to see him, get to be with him.

Well...As soon as he cleaned up and put on some clean clothes. He wouldn't go after a man like that looking like a desperate slob. Strange considering he didn't normally think about what anyone else thought about him. Well maybe that was cause he hadn't met the right person yet? Or at least he hadn't thought so...It was all slightly different now. So it was that he came to a somewhat frightening conclusion.

Was it perhaps because he'd fallen in love?


	4. Chapter 4

**_"All changing, now it's real, can't believe the way I feel. You don't know what you do to me."_**

It took three hours before Alfred was finally comfortable enough with his appearance to leave his hotel room.

He had taken the time to brush his normally unkempt blonde hair, to stress over what jeans didn't make his butt look huge and then to settle for a non-offensive t-shirt and to throw his Grandpa's old bomber jacket over his shoulders. It would have to do given the situation. He didn't want to end up seeming like a woman, taking forever to get ready for a chance meeting. And then he laughed.

Because hell, it'd taken him nearly_ three hours_ to get ready.

Not to mention the fact that he had yet to dial that number. Sure he'd saved it into his cell on the off chance that he lost that little scrap of paper, but he didn't have the guts to hit the call button just yet. Didn't want to seem too desperate or anything.

So it was at a relatively leisurely pace that he left his room and headed down to his car. He'd really lucked out on this one. Or maybe it was the fact that it was his Grandpa funding this sporadic trip...Either way, he really _really_ liked this car, even if the steering wheel was totally on the wrong side. The interior smelled faintly of cologne and whatever it was that Arthur had been drinking. It was a pleasant scent that mingled there. Comforting in a way that it shouldn't have been.

He flipped the key in the ignition, grin highlighting his face at the low rumble of the engine, he'd just waste some time exploring London. Sure it was cold and dreary as hell...or not like hell since supposedly it was really freaking hot there, the weather was miserable and that's what he meant, it was still a really cool city though. Tall ancient looking structures even right in the middle of town. Probably a lot of them had some sort of historical significance or something other, but it didn't mean that he knew what they were.

They just looked so...cool. Like awe inspiring and all that. He was really glad that he had decided to come here now. Not only for the thrill of meeting that Arthur, but for being able to see another country. It was enlightening in a weird sorta way. Like he knew for sure that it actually existed now. It wasn't just words and pictures in a boring old history textbook, it was real. Like really real.

Different people with different lives. Different weather patterns, different buildings. It was like an entirely different world. Like last night, just seeing all those people walking around the sidewalks even in the frigid weather, all laughing and going about their business. Apparently the magic that was Friday nights worked in both countries. The freedom from work and school, (depending upon age of course), to just let loose and be whoever the hell you wanted to be for an entire night.

He drove without really thinking where he was going. Following the streets by random choice, turning when there appeared to be something interesting in sight. After awhile he stumbled across a street market of sorts. He found an empty spot where he could parallel park for a couple hours, locked up that awesome car and then began to wander about the numerous stalls. It was cold and a few flurries drifted down from the gray sky, but he could care less. People bustled about him, wandering from vendor to vendor, observing the little nick-knacks that decorated their stalls.

A particularly colorful one caught his attention almost immediately. It made him think of gypsies, even if they didn't really exist or anything, it was just the feel of it. Plus, those kinds of things had always fascinated him. From nowhere it seemed, a woman with bright red hair popped up just behind his right shoulder, she appeared to be dressed in some of the brightly colored wear adorning the stall. She grinned up at him playfully.

"Looking for something for your sweetheart?" She winked a lovely green eye at him as she flitted in front of his path. He grinned, feeling almost as if he was blushing, green eyes and that recognizable accent of the people, it made him smile. Made him think of Arthur. "It is almost Christmas, I bet we could find something perfect for them." Another wink and then she grabbed his hand and was pulling him forward.

"I dunno what he likes though." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, or at the very least, hadn't meant to say "he". Errgh, he could just hit his head against a wall for opening his big mouth. Surprisingly enough the woman only smiled at him again.

"Well I can find you something to intrigue him, it's one of my talents, trust me." She spoke without hesitance. How different from what he was used to. Any sort of saleswoman would have cringed at him having mentioned a man in reference to "sweetheart" back home. This place had just earned a few more bonus points for awesomeness.

"Thanks." He smiled then, in that unrestrained way that could attract anyone with a pure heart for miles around. Blue eyes flickered over the colorful merchandise, mostly technicolor scarves, bangly things. Basically, girlish stuff. Then, as he squinted his eyes he noticed a few things that mentioned the occult. Well, he shoulda guessed. They really were like gypsies. Sometimes he had the best luck ever!

"So tell me, what is your boy like?" That girl was speaking again, standing now alongside another girl who had appeared from nowhere. He felt his face flushing red, and took a moment to clear his throat. Had to get the thoughts all in proper order and such.

"Let's see. He's kinda...stubborn. Comes across as totally uptight when you first meet him, but he's actually really...spontaneous. Umm...you see, I haven't known him all that long, and well, let's see... He can't hold liquor very well, he has this totally jerky French ex who makes me wanna punch something, but I guess that's beside the point...Umm, yeah...so he's scared of elevators, he umm...Oh I don't know...Sorry, like I said, I don't know him that well...Or yet at least, I do wanna know him better. He's really sweet y'see, and kinda funny in a weird way. I think he needs someone to look after him, and I want that to be. And not just cause I want to be a hero or anything...Well I do, but still. I think he needs me, he just doesn't know it yet." By the time he'd finished speaking, Alfred found that he was out of breath. He also felt a little bit foolish.

The women exchanged a glance and then smiled at him. They had an oddly comfortable way about them, like they understood what he was trying to say. It was the same red-haired one that had first spoke to him that spoke again.

"I know just what he needs then, and I won't even make you pay for it." Her voice was smooth, soft.

"Oh I'll pay for it, wouldn't be right for me to not to." But he had a strict set of morals, he couldn't just take something from such nice women. People that were offering their help and advice. It wouldn't be a very heroic thing for him to do.

"Just consider it..." The woman laughed softly, "Consider it a heroic deed on our part." It was kinda strange, like she was reading his mind. Again Alfred felt as though he was blushing, now that she'd said as much, it'd be rude to turn them down.

"Fine fine, you have me cornered." He held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing just a little bit now. Sporadic acts of kindness, there was so much good in the world. "Thank you, by the way." The girl turned her back to fetch whatever it was she had in mind, so it was the other woman to speak. The one that had been silent so far. She had light brown hair and soft brown eyes. She looked sorta motherly.

"We can tell you have a pure heart. It's not everyday that a person like you wanders over to this area, tourist or otherwise. Don't be thanking us Alfred Jones, just keep that pure heart of yours open, it's the only way you'll succeed in your current endeavor." He stood there silently shocked, how in the world had she figured out his name? That blush on his face only deepened, she totally had to be a gypsy! As he opened his mouth to speak, the red-haired woman turned around with a small brightly colored package.

"My sister doesn't often offer such advice Mr. Jones, I suggest you take it to heart." She stepped forward and tucked the little package into one of his coat pockets. "Past and future collide on cold nights," she winked one of her pretty green eyes, "take care of yourself and remember us well." Again he opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted when the woman stood up on her tip toes to plant a kiss on either one of his cheeks. It took a moment for him to regain his thoughts.

"I will. Thanks. I really mean it, even if you don't want me to say it...Well really, thanks a million!" With a new level of exuberance he gave both of the kind, slightly strange women a tight squeezing hug. When he pulled away they both gave him a nearly identical bemused smirk. "Seriously, thanks!" And then he turned around and headed off towards his car, feeling that whatever had called him here had passed now.

He jammed his hands into the pockets of the coat, one of them idly fiddled with the package that the women had given him. It was kinda strange that he had no idea what it was, but he wasn't exactly gonna open it and find out. He'd just wait til he gave it to Arthur.

Whenever it was that it felt right to do so at least.

There was still a little bit over a week until Christmas. A little bit over a week to get to know him a little bit better, something he couldn't even do until he got up the guts to actually call that captivating man. He slid into the driver's seat of that awesome car and blasted the heat, letting it thaw his fingers as he pulled out his cell phone. He went straight to that number...The first one in the address book since it started with an A...Obviously...Man he needed to get his thoughts in order.

All he had to do was press that button, then he could hear that voice. He took a deep breath and did it.

It took three rings, but finally there was the click of the phone being answered. His breath caught and he found his greeting caught in his throat.

"_Ello, ello_." That voice was definitely not Arthur's. "_Ello who is zis_?" It felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. He may only have heard that voice once, but there was no mistaking that accent. That French accent. What in the world...He couldn't think...Couldn't breathe... "_If zis is some sort of prank, you need to be stopping it._" Funny, prank indeed. The phone fell into the floorboard of the car, flipped shut of its own accord.

The prank would be picking up a man in a bar, supposedly helping him confront an ex, sleeping with him, and then having his phone answered by that ex. Ha. Funny. Just freaking hilarious. This time the low roar of the engine echoed the sound in the back of Alfred's throat. Lame, stupid tears sneaked out of his eyes and began to trail down his face. He was such an idiot! He whipped out of his temporary parking spot and began to haphazardly head off into the direction he was sure his hotel was in.

He didn't want to roam around this city any more. He wanted to curl up on his bed with a cheeseburger or something. Maybe indulge in whatever was on British tv, anything to numb his mind. It was snowing a little harder now, or faster at least... Coulda been the speed he was driving at too. Much faster on unfamiliar streets than was logical. And then his phone began to ring from wherever it had fallen in the floorboard.

That loud, cheery ring-tone that he didn't particularly want to listen to at the moment. He took a quick glance at the street ahead of him, the nearest car was a decent distance away, so he quickly leaned down to grope for his phone. He felt it close to his foot, near the gas pedal, just had to reach it...It happened like it always does. The steering wheel pulled right on its own volition, the phone skittered and Alfred set up bolt straight as he tried to slam his foot against the break.

The phone. It had skittered behind the break, was blocking it now. Alfred swore as the car that hadn't been so far away was now a lot closer. He pulled drastically on his steering wheel, and then had to close his eyes. He was going to plow straight into some brick building, and there was no stopping it. The last thing he heard was that ring-tone as it came again feebly from beneath his break.

It was Arthur's name that scrolled across the screen as the world fell apart.


	5. Chapter 5

**_"I want you to know, with everything I won't let this go. These words are my heart and soul. I'll hold on to this moment as I bleed my heart out to show I won't let go."  
_**

There were very few things in the world that could make Arthur Kirkland truly angry, and the fact that his ex had sauntered into his house with complete disrespect for his personal privacy was definitely one of those things. And then for the man to filch his cell phone when his back was turned. To answer it. It was only logical that his fist connected solidly with the man's all too perfect face.

"You bastard, what makes you think you have the right to pull these stunts?" He towered over the now stunned man who had fallen flat on his rump with a dull thud. At the very least he deserved an apology. He'd seen the caller id. It had been Alfred calling. And that only made it worse, he wasn't completely sure why, but it damn well did.

"Don't look at me zat way Arthur, we both know that boy was nothing but a farce to get my attention." Francis's bright blue eyes glittered cunningly up at him even as a bit of blood dripped out of his nose, the man had no self-respect. He could probably say with full honesty that this was far more insulting than when he had stumbled in on the orgy that had been the final straw in their relationship. "And while the boy was quite handsome, we both know zat you are spoiled for all others except moi. "

At that, Arthur grinned. It was a devilish, hellish, frightening thing. Francis immediately found himself growing pale and attempting to scoot as far away from him as quickly as possible. His green eyes glittered dangerously, he had been pushed far beyond the normal limits of his patience. No longer was he going to stomach this man's cruelties! He'd been nothing more than a bitch to him for over three years and now...Now when it seemed that he might gain some measure of self-confidence once more...

No. He was done.

"Are you willing to bet on that Francis?" Never before had his voice been so strong, so frightening as it crackled in the warm air of his living room. "Would you like to know exactly what happened when Alfred and I left your place last night? Because I'm willing to bet that inside you would be crying at the details, thinking that your favorite "little" boy finally outgrew you." It was true enough, Francis was nearly five years older than him, had originally teased him about being his little British brother upon their first meeting. Those bright blue eyes widened in outrage and something more.

At last it seemed he had found a way to hurt Francis.

It wasn't nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be. Mainly because what it had cost him. When he'd attempted to call Alfred back after the initial moment, well he hadn't gotten an answer. He left a message the second time he attempted a call, he could only hope the man would call him back. Heaven only knew what he was thinking right now, even if they'd only been together the once...

He damn well couldn't deny anymore that he relished the idea of seeing him again.

"Prove to me zat you want me no more." Francis stumbled to his feet, using the wall that he had scooted towards for support. The guy was a complete wimp to be frank. "Prove to me zat you are indeed engaged to zis American zat I met last night and zen I shall leave you well enough alone." He paused for a moment, a familiar and conniving smile creeping across his face. "But if zis charade falls apart as I assume it will, zen you will be mine. I grew fond of you, even on your boring days, for at least when the women run dry I shall still have you by my side and warming my bed."

It took all of the patience that Arthur could summon to not charge that man, to throw him against the wall and beat the living daylights out of him. Because that's definitely what he wanted to do this very moment. He wanted it so bad he could practically feel his fists connecting with that man's face...A deep breath and the feeling managed to fade even if the desire to follow through didn't.

"Fine Francis. I'll prove it." He prayed with all of his heart that this would work. "I'll call up Alfred and we'll get this all sorted out. And then you will have to swear that you'll never come near me again. I meant it when I was done with you. It was sheer ego that lead me to your door last night, I wanted to prove my words were true, and tonight you will know for sure. No longer do you have any claim to me." His voice was far steadier than he expected, there was still the dangerously sharp undertone, but it was clearly under control now.

For the moment all was relatively calm.

"I'll believe zat, when I see it, _Arthur_." He really hated the way Francis said his name, still like he owned him or something along those lines. With another deep breath he fished his phone out of the pocket of the designer jeans he had changed into when he got home. He went to the recent calls list and dialed Alfred's number yet again, hoping blindly that the man would pick up this time around.

"_The number that you have dialed is no longer in service, please hang up your phone and try again later._" It was a robotic voice that filtered through to his ears, his eyes widened. For some reason he had a sick sort of feeling in his stomach, like something was completely wrong with this picture. (Or was more wrong that in clearly already was.) So he cleared his throat and turned to Francis, pretending with a grin that everything was just fine.

"Excuse me for just a minute." He didn't bother to hear the man's grumbled response before he turned around and headed off to his room, still holding that phone to his ear. That robotic voice repeating the message over and over and over again. He locked his door behind him, tossed his phone over on his bed as he scrambled to the phone book on the dresser. He was a man that often lost numbers and other such things, so it was good to have around.

He flipped through it, desperately searching for the number to the hotel that Alfred was staying at, it was moments like these that he was grateful for his memory. It only took a couple moments before he found the number and was anxiously punching it into his phone. It took approximately two and a half rings before a woman answered the phone with the resounding smack of bubblegum in her mouth.

"Hello." She was most definitely a sarcastic one, Arthur gritted his teeth before he replied in as cordial a tone as he could possibly muster.

"Hi, I'm looking to see if Alfred up in room..five eight-six is in." Another smack of bubblegum, the quick clatter of manicured hands on a keyboard, and then that high tone came again. Delivering unwanted news with a holier than thou enunciation.

"Mr. Jones was checked out about five minutes ago, some sort of medical emergency." Arthur struggled to maintain his composure even though he knew no one could see him at this moment. It was just ingrained within him. He had to remain calm, stoic, unreadable.

"Well, thank you for your time...Do you happen to know where he would be at this moment?"

"Probably the hospital over off of Burkes I imagine."

"Thanks again." It was hardly a breath later that he slammed his phone shut and began searching for his coat. He wasn't an optimist to begin with, but there was most definitely something wrong with this picture. Something very very very wrong. To hell with whatever Francis would be thinking at this point, he _had _to get to Alfred. If he was hurt...if he was hurt...It would be all of his fault.

And that was a very disconcerting thought.

A lot more than it logically should have been. This was what he got for acting impulsively. He brought everyone down around him. Just his fucking luck! And then there was Francis's snarky voice coming from outside his door, almost frantically searching for his attention. He really could care less.

"Come now Arthur, I shall be having all of you to myself this night." Arthur threw open the door and nearly hit Francis in the face with it in his effort to get out of the house as fast as physically possible.

"For once Francis, will you just shut the hell up?" This was thrown harshly into the air as he tore his car keys out of the little dish he kept in the hallway, he didn't have time for this. Had to get to the hospital. Hoped it would be the right one. Hoped everything was alright...He just had to get his thoughts in some semblance of order.

"Where are you going?" Arthur ignored the obviously flustered Frenchman as made his way towards the door, threw him off when he tried to hold him back by his arm.

"This is none of your business. You had better not be here when I get back." Never before had Arthur heard his voice so cold, never before had he felt so desperate. His vision swam for a minute when he opened his front door and was greeted by a frigid blast of winter air. It was with a grimace that made his way to his old, clunky vehicle, leaving Francis dumbfounded in the doorway behind him.

There was no secret joy in destroying that man in this moment. He just felt empty. The key stuck momentarily in the ignition before the engine sputtered to life, he didn't even bother to turn on the heater before he roared out of his small drive and onto the not so crowded streets of his area of town. His grip on the wheel was iron, though he felt as if he should be shaking, what with the many thoughts currently racing through his head at a frantic pace.

Every single "worst situation" scenario increasing in severity with each passing moment. Thankfully enough, he managed to keep his focus on the road, every meter covered another meter closer to Alfred. To somehow making everything right, even if he didn't know what was wrong.

****xxx****

It was all a blur.

Colors, words, faces...everything swirled together in a maelstrom that made no sense. It faded in with the pain. Offered a distraction. Something to cling to as he felt the tugging of darkness tempting him. He had to find something concrete. Something real. Something to hold on to before it all fell away.

Never before had he felt the urge to give in, to give up and let it all fall away. And now... Now it was just so tempting.

So close.

Another whirl of movement, another hint of garbled voices. Frantically calm. Disconcertingly unaware of what he was feeling. He wanted to cry but couldn't find a way to squeeze the needed tears out. At the very least he felt his hands clench, the muscles cording in frustration. None of this was fair. All he'd wanted was to chase a whim! What the hell was wrong with that? Why in the world did he have to be here now?

It wasn't fair...

It was all slipping away faster now. The colors fading, the voices slipping away. He felt a few of those tears creeping out now. Didn't want to leave yet. Didn't want to let go. Wanted to live. Wanted to see it all.

His eyes flickered for a brief moment, bloodshot eyes making the brilliant blue iris's seem to glow for an infinitesimal second. No one noticed. The figures surrounding him were too focused on their tasks...It hurt. To be ignored. To be alone.

Grey. Behind his eyes the world was grey.

Like they always said, there were memories flashing. Flickering like an old movie through his life. Through the moments that meant the most. His grandfather handing him an old leather jacket...Hopping on a plane for the first time and seeing the world set out below him, ready for the saving...Bright green eyes flickering up at him lazily in the low light of a bar. A stolen kiss outside a too bright house. A heady embrace in an elevator...

That night shouldn't have remained so vividly in his mind.

But it was there. Those green eyes were the only color now. He wanted to see them again. Didn't care about the rest of it. Didn't care that it was a foolish whim. At the very least he had found something to hold on to. Something solid in this world of swirling memories and rising tide pain. He focused on that. Made a solid promise as the rest of the world slipped away.

He would see Arthur again.


	6. Chapter 6

_**"What's the change in your tone when you whisper? Who's to blame? Is my message clearer?"**_

Arthur's hands were fair to shaking by the time he threw open his car door and began scrambling up the steps and into the hospital. He was a bundle of over-wrought nerves, his thoughts going in a circular movement of worry and discontent. Didn't want to be the one to blame. Didn't want to be the one at fault if anything were to happen to this man he had found only a night ago.

So little time for such a strange attachment.

Not that it really mattered. Not the time, not the differences. There was something here that he could not ignore. And it wasn't like he believed in fate or anything, because he most certainly did _not_, it was just... Well he wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was not fate. By the time he reached the receptionist in the front office, he was obviously frazzled, his voice a shaking fanatic's.

In any other situation the receptionist would probably have burst out in condemning laughter.

"Please, could you tell me if there's a man by the name of Alfred Jones here?" The woman sitting there had wide brown eyes, kind and open, she offered a slight smile and reached out to touch one of Arthur's trembling hands.

"Just one moment dear, I'll see." His heart seized in his chest, so nervous was he. And then the woman's calm and level voice drew him back out of his desperate reverie. From the look in her eyes though...Something was wrong. Something...

Something.

Something was.

Something was _very_...

_Something was very wrong. _

"There is an Alfred F. Jones down in the ICU, an American by the looks of his ID, is that who you're looking for?" The tremor in her voice said that she was hoping this wasn't the man he was so desperately searching for. Too bad he wasn't gifted with any sense of luck at all.

"That would be him miss." How he still managed to be polite was far beyond his comprehension, but at least it offered some sense of normalcy in the midst of all this chaos. And it was indeed chaos around here. Even at this somewhat late hour, people coming and going out of the doors, family's nervous whispers, single parties with similar looks of anxiousness written all over their mien.

"You know, I can't let anyone into the ICU that isn't family..." Arthur's green eyes widened and he frantically searched the young woman's face. Hoping somehow that she would see just how much he needed this. How much he needed to see Alfred. "You two look quite alike judging from this picture, you wouldn't happen to be brothers would you?" He could see the gentle coaxing in her voice. Silently he thanked whoever was giving him this little boost of luck now.

"That would be me. I'm his older brother." The woman smiled now and then clacked a few things onto her keyboard.

"Here we go, you're all cleared to go see him." She reached out and gave him a piece of paper that looked like some sort of visitor pass. "Just be warned, he just got out of surgery, and things still aren't looking very good for him...I'm not sure how much time you're going to have with him." He knew she meant to say that as gently as possible, but it didn't lighten the blow. In fact it felt like he'd just been sucker punched right in the kidneys.

"Can I ask...Can I ask what happened?" Again she offered a faint smile, and again he knew it was meant to be gentle, encouraging even.

"Car wreck. He smashed into some abandoned building at a very high speed. That's all I've heard though."

"Well, um...Thank you. Thank you so much." He had to try hard now to conceal the tears threatening to well up in his eyes. It wouldn't do well to burst out into tears at a time like this. And not just because it wasn't manly, he could give a damn about that at the moment. But on the off chance that Alfred was conscious, well, he didn't want to look weak. He wanted to be able to offer some source of comfort.

"The ICU is down that hall and to the right. I wish you the best of luck." Arthur turned to the woman now, offered his own faint smile as a few tears crept out anyways.

"Thank you."

And then he tore down the surprisingly crowded corridors at break neck speed. There were quite a few swears and other such euphemisms tossed his way but he didn't really care at the moment, just had to get to Alfred. The lady had said he'd been in surgery already...That things still weren't looking so good. Well maybe just this once he would be lucky? Maybe, for once things could turn out on the happier side?

Arthur _really_ wanted a happy ending for once.

The moment he ran through the doors that read "ICU" he was stopped by a tall and somewhat intimidating doctor. With a breathless voice and a good deal of stuttering Arthur explained that he was Alfred's "brother" and that he had to make sure he was alright. The man offered a kind smile, seemingly following the story, seemingly believing it, and then he offered to show him to where Alfred was currently settled.

He nodded now, unable to coherently form a single word.

All around here was practical chaos, doctors and nurses moving with trained fluency, barking requests and orders at one another with voices that were strangely and steadily monotone. It was a frightening place...For good reason of course. This was a place filled with constant fights for life, and he idly wondered how many of those fights were actually won. To say that it was a disturbing thought would be an understatement, but he didn't care, because just ahead...

Just ahead he made out the battered figure of Alfred Jones.

The man that had been so vibrant and captivating hardly twenty-four hours ago. The man that had unhesitatingly offered his hand to a man that he didn't even know. Had offered him a ride home, had helped him confront an old fear...Had kissed him out of the blue and then stolen him away to his hotel room. All of this had happened in such a whirl, so fast he had hardly even realized what was happening.

That this man was carving out a solid place in his memory.

Arthur dropped to his knees. He couldn't find the strength to stand anymore. This just wasn't fair! Nothing about this was fair. That he should see the merest glimpse of happiness only to have it smashed against a bloody building! What cruel twist of fate demanded this price? He sniffled as hot tears crept out of his eyes once more, the doctor that had lead him here put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's not looking too terrible, he's stable right now." Arthur looked up at the man's comforting brown eyes even as tears continued to cloud his own. "Actually, he should be just fine given a little time. We actually managed to salvage a peculiar little package out of his coat pocket. It looked like it might have some value to him...Would you like to hold on to it for him?" All Arthur could manage was a weak little nod as he forced himself to his feet.

At the very least he could pretend to be strong for Alfred. For some reason that seemed imperative. Maybe because he had been...Scratch that, _was _such an easygoing and light-hearted man. The way he wished he could be.

All the same, the steps that he took to be beside that bed, they seemed like miles. It was like the air had turned to jelly, hindering his progress forward as much as physically possible. Binding his limbs to some incomprehensible level of air density. His eyes moved hungrily of Alfred's form. Thankfully enough, he was asleep, his brilliant blue eyes currently closed to the world. His blond hair was clumped together in strange chunks, as if it had been matted with blood, the bandage that ran around his head made it apparent enough that it must have been so.

Bruises ran up both of his arms, one of them was in a sling as if it had been broken...Arthur forced himself to look at him, didn't want to turn away from this destruction he had caused. Silently he swore to himself that when Alfred woke up he would show him all around London. He had seemed so excited to be here, he would give him the grand fucking tour! To hell if he looked like a bloody tourist alongside him, he didn't care.

He might even hold his hand. Just for the fun of it. Just in case Alfred wanted to have anything to do with him at all...

"Here you go Mr. Jones, the wrapping is quite torn, but given the circumstances it's a miracle it's intact at all." The doctor had returned, had addressed him like he truly was Alfred's brother, and was now plopping this strange little package in his trembling hands. He gripped it tightly, held it close to his chest, and then he smiled faintly at the man.

"Thank you." It seemed he was saying that a lot in the past half hour or so, but he truly was grateful. Especially since, at this very moment, Alfred was alive. And that was as much as he could ever possibly ask for. The man returned his smile, clapped him in a friendly way on the shoulder and then went off to attend to one of the many patients in this area. For a moment after that Arthur just stood there, silently considering whether he should open this beaten package and sate his curiosity or not.

So, he leaned down and whispered into Alfred's ear as he ever so gently laid a hand upon his arm.

"How about it Al, can I take a peek?" Normally he knew to leave people's possessions well enough alone, but for some reason he was just really curious about this. Maybe because Alfred had had it on his person during the wreck, and maybe it was because it could possibly be something important...Either way he looked at it, he just _had_ to know. His green eyes raked over the unconscious man's features, took into consideration the tiniest hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth and the way his arm seemed to flex ever so slightly beneath his hand.

He took that as a yes.

With the same enthusiasm as a youngster on Christmas morning, he tore away what was left of the wrapping. What was left was a relatively tiny object that fit in the palm of his hand, but was covered by a deep green handkerchief. Now, with the tiniest hint of reverence he pulled away the lovely green fabric. What was revealed was a shiny silver pocket-watch. It had an interesting design around the face, like leaves carved into the hard material.

There was a jagged crack on the face of the clock itself. It spider-webbed from the one, branching to hit the nine, seven, and four. Arthur found himself smiling faintly, it was a lovely piece of work and it was a miracle that it hadn't been damaged any further. In fact, it was still steadily ticking its way through the minutes. It was nearly thirty minutes after nine, a good deal later than he had thought...

He gripped Alfred's arm a little tighter, listening to the slow and steady beat of his heart on the monitor. It gave him another burst of hope, that maybe this would work for the better. In fact, he wrapped his hand around Alfred's, slipping the handsome little pocket-watch into his grip even as he held on. His hand was warm, surprisingly soft as he remembered. He leaned forward a little and placed a soft kiss on his cheek since the bandage went around his forehead.

"I promise I'll make this up to you, you just have to wake up for me." Arthur didn't really realize what he was saying, knew only that those were the words that were dancing upon his tongue and that needed to be said. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he owed this man a debt he could not repay, and he had every intention of paying him back. It was the proper thing to do after all.

****xxx****

In his dreams Alfred was happy. He was warm and felt as though someone was holding ever so tightly to his hand. This was by far the best he had felt since he had made that phone call. Maybe he'd died, maybe he'd gone to heaven. Maybe he was just imagining things again. Maybe he was still on the plane to England and had merely fallen to sleep.

That would be just his luck, wouldn't it?

He felt something cool tucked into his hand and he felt a warm kiss on his cheek. The rest of his body continued to ache in a not so subtle way, but that kiss felt like the delicate touch of a feather. A pang went through his heart, a mixture of happiness and pain. Such a strange mixture. It made no sense really, to hurt this bad and be so happy at the same time.

In fact, the happiness and the warmth began to quickly fade away.

He wanted to call out, plead for it to come back, he would do anything for it to just come back. But it didn't. In fact, it fled all the faster. Like it no longer wanted anything to do with him at all. The pain from earlier returned with a vengeance. It doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled...All in a matter of moments. Why wouldn't it stop? Where had that warmth gone? It was cold now, cold and very _very_ painful.

This was it.

This was the end.

Alfred knew he wouldn't live through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I know I haven't done one of these since the first chapter but I just thought I'd take a quick moment of your time. I want to thank you guys so much for all your kind words and reviews! They mean a lot and I never thought I would get such good feedback. I shall try hard to not leave such cliffhanger chapters for you! (I really will!) I hope that I will continue to see you in the following chapters!

* * *

__**"Will you take the road that's been laid out before you? Will we cross paths somewhere else tonight? Somewhere else tonight..."**_

Arthur almost couldn't believe what was happening. _Almost. _

Of course there was no denying it. All of the machines connected to Alfred had decided to shoot beeping alarms all at once. And then the doctors and nurses came running, checking his pulse and shouting orders back and forth at one another. The tears from just moments ago returned with a vengeance.

"What's wrong? Is he going to be okay?" His voice cracked as he continued to be pushed back from Alfred, he couldn't even see his face. Vaguely he heard the men telling him to back off, to get out of here so they could do their job...And then a pair of hand grabbed him by the shoulders as if they could just drag him away from what was happening. Because he realized all too well what was happening.

Alfred was dying.

So he began to fight, fight as if his struggle would renew that of that man's. He shoved past the people he knew were only trying to help, but he didn't care. There was no hope anyway. He had to see Alfred, had to see him alive. Even if it was just the last moment of the struggle. He broke through for just a moment to stand at Alfred's bedside.

His eyes were open.

They were that same brilliant blue, seeming brighter for the tears that fell down his cheeks. And still the doctors continued in their efforts to pry him away, he pushed them away as best as possible. Couldn't they see that Alfred was alright? He was going to be alright. He was going to be alright...It would be fine, his eyes were open. He was looking him right in the face, and he even had a strangely sad smile on his mouth.

The monitors continued their sporadic beeping. It was almost like a countdown. That's what it felt like at least. Alfred's hand, the one that he had held, it was shaking now as he reached out and grabbed pitifully for his own. At this, the doctors backed off, now offering privacy...Like they knew there was no hope and just wanted this to end peacefully. There were still other patients that demanded their care after all, they saw death on a daily basis, why not just let this man go the way he wanted?

_Beep._

"Arthur." His voice was so faint, breaking. Nothing like that hearty timbre that had shocked Arthur out of his drunken haze. Hand grasped a little tighter, he felt the cool metal of that pocket-watch between their hands.

_Beep._

"I'm so sorry Alfred. About everything. I'm going to make it up to you, I'm going to show you around London as soon as you get out of here!" They both knew that wouldn't happen. It was just another bout of empty words. All the same, Alfred conjured one of his most brilliant smiles. Both of the men cried without shame, Arthur's head leaned down to lay against Alfred's.

_Beep._

"Arthur.." A rattling breath. "I got, I got the watch for you."

_Beep._

"I can't take that Al."

_Beep._

"Consider it...Consider it a heroic deed, okay?"

_Beep._

"Okay."

_Beep._

"Wasn't so hard, was it?"

_Beep._

"Not at all."

_Beep._

"I'm glad I met you Arthur."

_Beep._

"I'm glad I met you too Al." Arthur looked down, not believing what he saw anymore. Those blue eyes had drifted shut. But he was still breathing, still holding his hand. "I'm so glad I met you. You're the best man I've ever met."

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

****xxx****

Arthur Kirkland was, for not the first time in his life, speechless. He sat in one of the many hallways of the hospital in one of those unforgiving chairs with his head in his hands. His fingers entangled themselves through his blond hair and his bloodshot clover eyes were thankfully averted from any others wandering about.

All he wanted now was to be alone.

Be alone while he attempted to regather his life. He felt oddly numb, just so very empty. Like he had cried all of the tears it was physically possible to shed. He hadn't found it within himself to leave yet, he was all Alfred had here after all. The only sign that he had any connections to this world at all.

And he had failed him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the sound of two female voices coming down the hall. He didn't bother to look up as they passed by, or at least, started to pass. Because they stopped one on either side of him. At that he was forced to drag his head out of his hands and expose his grief-stained eyes to these nosy women. He didn't speak though, didn't think he had the ability to do so.

"Arthur Kirkland." It wasn't a question, it was a blank statement from the woman that stood to his left. Tiny by the looks of it, with red hair and glittering green eyes. He shrugged in acknowledgment, a hand now idly toying with the pocket-watch that he had let settle in his lap. "You don't have much time in which to act." His brows drew together in confusion as he looked between her and the other female who remained silent, with eyes averted.

"I have nothing to act for, now leave me alone will you?" He hardly recognized his voice, it sounded like a dead man's voice. A zombies. Whatever other morbid creature he could possibly imagine.

"You have a debt to repay do you not?" Her voice had a sharper edge to it now, goading him with painful words. "A debt to a man by the name of Alfred Jones." He chuckled in a low, bitter way.

"Can't have a debt to a dead man." He didn't care how this woman thought she knew either of them, but it was none of her business anyway. The wound was still far too fresh. Didn't want to have anything to do with whatever this was.

"Oh it is very possible to have a debt to a dead man Mr. Kirkland." It was the other woman that spoke, she had soft looking brown hair and he couldn't quite tell what color her eyes were though. "Would you like to repay him? It's what a gentleman would do..." At that, Arthur jumped to his feet, the anger obvious in his mien.

"There is _no_ way to fix this! Don't you see that?"

"There is always a way to fix what has been broken. And we are giving you that opportunity. Two things need to be mended, and there is little time in which to act. If you are a man of true character then it is hardly a question at all." He really couldn't make much sense of any of this, but he didn't like the way it sounded. The way it seemed so unreal. Whatever happened to reality? Had it been skewed just by his meeting a man in a bar?

"I would if it wasn't so bloody impossible! Don't you think I would do whatever I could to fix what I've broken? To return the life that I let be stolen?" The women passed a look between themselves, and then they smiled. It was the red-head that spoke this time.

"We knew we had made the right decision with you Arthur. Now, there are two things that you need to know." He had no idea what was happening, but he kept his mouth shut. Most of this sounded absurd to him already, he would just grin and bear it until these women wandered off to whatever strange place they had come here from. "Time is a delicate thing, you can only change little things. This means that you can't just come out and tell someone what you're about, the biggest decisions come from the most minor of details."

For some reason Arthur just couldn't walk away. No matter how crazy this now sounded.

"You only have forty-eight hours in any "segment" of time that you interrupt. Any longer than that and you'll kicked farther back. You might even get stuck, and that trust me, you _do not_ want that to happen."

Okay, so he seriously wanted to cry bull on all of this talk. Was half tempted to just turn away and walk towards his car. Leave for the moment at least. To grab a drink and clear his head. Maybe get his life back into a sense of normalcy. He had gotten rid of Francis after all...It had come at a really painful price, but...In a way, was that the way it was supposed to go? There was no such thing as the "time-travel" that these women were suggesting anyways.

"I'm sorry about this ladies, I really am, but it's completely absurd." Arthur began to push past them and head down the way that he had come, their voices called after him in a strange unison. The sound of it sent shivers down his spine, but he didn't turn back. In fact, he started to run.

_"It has already been set into motion Arthur Kirkland. When the clock begins to tick you will have no choice but to fall."_

****xxx****

And so it was that Arthur found himself at the same place where it all began.

Sitting in the same barstool, with the same surly bartender, and the same burning drink lining his throat. He ignored the fact that Alfred wouldn't just magically show up and save him and took another drink. Already his head was pounding, his vision blurring. It was the sweet release of inebriation. Or, it was supposed to be. Of course the pain didn't just disappear. It was numbed though. Hiding just below the surface.

Like having a cut on the inside of his mouth, when all he wanted to do was worry it with his tongue.

The flare of pain to snap some sense into him throughout the day. It was a twisted logic and he'd be the first to admit it. His brows drew together in agitation when he looked down to realize that his glass was already empty. It felt like he had only just sat down, only just ordered the drink with the slightest hint of chagrin. He merely had to lift his head and the barkeep was over and pouring him another.

At least he seemed a little more compliant this night. Was it so obvious that he really needed it? That he needed to fall into that blessed oblivion after Alfred? He was a grand fool for having been bothered by those women. They must have just escaped from the psych ward or something. Nothing to have been so bothered over. Didn't care how they had known his name, had known anything.

It was probably just his imagination.

Maybe this was the same night. Same bar, different pain, same yearning. That yearning for an escape. Just something to take him away from all of this. The garbled words, the searing pain of losing one he hadn't realized he'd cared so strongly for. All he had to do now was to steal the bottle from the barkeep, had to get in that argument. And when he stormed out, he was positive that he would run smack into that warm chest.

That he would hear that boomingly cheerful voice.

He took another drink and pulled the watch from his coat pocket to check the time, forgetting already that it was broken. And then the hands began to move of their own volition. At a creepy rate. Had to resist the urge to throw it at the wall. But he couldn't do that, this had been a gift...An apparently creepy one.

The time now read ten minutes after eleven and counting.

With the first dull click of the second hand Arthur's vision blurred. He brushed it off as an early effect of the liquor, it did work fast after all. With the second click his head began to pound. Still blamed upon the drink, he pushed the glass subtly away from him.

_Click._

It looked almost as if the ivy design was beginning to move and writhe around the clock face.

_Click._

Arthur's hand gripped the bar for balance.

_Click._

He began to fall. _  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_**"I'm still here, but I'll just keep the rest of me. Cause I see you, but I can't feel you anymore."**_

There is something to be said for a person that lands on their feet.

That slips into their new place with only the slightest ripple in the ever flowing current of time. Which is precisely what did not happen to the unfortunate Arthur Kirkland. He stumbled forward, head pounding, dizziness and nausea overwhelming all other senses as he was ripped across space and time...To land smack in the middle of nowhere. All around him there was nothing but open field, open sky.

A surprisingly warm wind whipped through him, tousling his golden hair so that it flowed with the same consistency of the pale wheat that hit at his waist. He looked up into a bright noonday sun, green eyes squinting together in confusion. He was absolutely sure that only a moment ago he had been sitting in a very dark pub drinking his worries away. Worries that his brain couldn't quite remember at the moment.

Apparently the drink had been doing its job.

Unfortunately, it didn't solve the problem before him now. There was a strange weight in his hand, he looked down to see a silver pocket watch with an interesting design of leaves about the face, even if the glass was cracked just a tad. He didn't recognize it, but it was nice. Lovely even. It seemed like one of those unforgettable gifts, but when he tried to focus on just where in the world he might have gotten it his head began pounding and his vision swam.

Meaning he didn't want to dwell on it for too long. It could only cause further trouble, a hint of nausea even, and he wasn't a man that liked to feel sick, to feel so out of sorts. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but only found that the air felt too rich, too clean somehow. His lungs were used to the toxins that tended to clutter the busy London air, but this...This was pure country.

Open and wild. The types of things he was never very good at. There had been once, he'd stayed with an aunt in Ireland, she'd had nothing but open moors around her, rolling and intimidating. He'd only gone outside but once or twice, and always with her beside him.

He was a man who didn't feel like he could be swallowed by the great unknown. The emptiness of an open plain. He wanted structure, form, safety. And so it was that he promptly began to panic; even if it was indeed the middle of a very sunny day. He shoved the watch into an empty gray pocket and began to run. Didn't know what from, or where in the world he was heading, only that it felt good and it felt _right_.

Arthur Kirkland hadn't done something like this in a long time.

Running hell for leather with only the wind and open field at his back. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd never ran like this before. It was as if his body was possessed by some force outside of his being, his legs moving of their own volition, lungs pumping air throughout his body at a surprisingly steady rate. He was nowhere near winded which was strange for two reasons. The first being he was pretty sure he was still drunk. The second being he was _not_ athletic.

And yet he kept going.

And it seemed as if he wasn't gaining any ground. Like being trapped in one of those looped backgrounds from a cheap sitcom. The only thing was that he couldn't get his body to stop, he was being driven by lord only knew what, heading towards heaven only knew where. But he couldn't bring himself to care. To worry. He lost himself to the strange movement. The ebb and flow of his breathing, the hard push of his muscles working against the force of gravity so that it was like he was nearly flying.

He had never felt so free before.

Though somewhere, in the back of his mind there was a nagging doubt. It discounted all of this with a sarcastic smirk as a drunkard's pathetic attempt to escape reality. For some reason he was really really wanting to silence that part of this brain. Even if it was the logical side, the side that made sense out of this impossibility. And truth be told, all of this was beginning to make it feel like his head was going to split in two.

It was with this distraction that Arthur tripped over his own feet and did a face plant right into the fertile earth of this weird golden field. He coughed and sputtered in attempt to get it off of his face, his arms trembling as he tried to at least force himself to his knees. _What in the world was happening to him?_ Had he finally lost it? Was he actually locked in a padded white room somewhere along the coast?

All of things were a very frightening possibility. So frightening to the grown man that he immediately began to feel hot tears of frustration squeezing out of his eyes. Sliding down his cheeks and creating a dreadfully muddy trail down his otherwise handsome face. He just wished he could remember how he'd gotten here. What had happened to make the world change like this.

And then there was a voice above him.

"Hey, dude...Umm...are you okay?" There was a sudden and nearly audible click in the back of Arthur's mind. His wide green eyes flashed up the figure now standing awkwardly over him and he had the resist the urge to utter the name that was unwontedly dangling on his lips. As it was, it took a moment for him to find any words at all.

"Err...yeah. Just tripped." The boy above him laughed, he couldn't be that old. Fourteen or Fifteen _maybe_.

"Well hey, want a hand?" He leaned forward, offering with a grin as bright as the one that had lit up a dingy pub back in England. Arthur took it without thinking, surprised at the boy's strength as he pulled him to his feet. Even more strange was that he already hit at about his shoulders in height. It was no wonder he had been taller than him...

Dear lord above he was losing his mind.

There was no way this could actually be Alfred. It would make no sense...Unless of course, he really _was_ locked up in a padded room somewhere with regular injections of medicine to keep the misery away.

"Thanks."

"No problem bro, just tell me, what in the world are you doing out here?" The boy...This boy that looked like a younger Alfred, laughed, blue eyes bright with the light of the sun. It didn't put him at ease like it would if this were really Alfred. Something about this was just too artificial.

"Truth be told...I have no idea." It was true enough.

"Y'know, you have a funny accent." The kid was really one to talk, but he kept his mouth shut. Because...At the very least he could tell he wasn't anywhere near London, imagination or not. Still, Arthur could not help the grin that had somehow managed to cross his mien.

"I hear that a lot, though truth be told, it helps me get the ladies." Not that he cared for the ladies...Obviously...But it had earned him a long look or two back in the day. The boy grinned, which for some reason or other made Arthur realize that their hands were still oddly clasped. Naturally, he let go as soon as he realized it. The funny thing being that it had felt like Alfred's hand alright. That strange combination that managed to feel smooth and oddly masculine at the same time.

Which he really shouldn't have been thinking about because there was no way this was Alfred, and it wasn't right to be captivated by a kid this young. He ran his now free hand through his hair and looked off into the sky to divert his attention.

"I really don't care what the girls think." The kid leaned forward a bit, those blue eyes bright as they stared up into Arthur's now wide, incredulous green ones. "And I don't think you do either...what was your name again?" Arthur instinctively backed away a bit, even if he wasn't particularly compelled to. Damn it! Just what the hell was up here? Sure he remember Alfred now, didn't know how he had squashed that. The edges of the pain were blurred but it didn't stop it from being able to pierce the skin and sting like a hundred paper cuts.

"It's Arthur." A strange look crossed the younger man's face but it was quickly replaced by one of those drop dead grins that already seemed far too familiar.

"Does that mean I can call you Arty?"

"No." Arthur's brows drew together, he'd never been fond of nicknames, and "Arty" was just one of the worst. Had heard it a hundred times a day back in preemie school. The two stood there for a moment, eyes locked, studying one another. It was, (and not surprisingly), awkward. Probably just because of how convoluted all of this really seemed, to both parties. One a grown man in a place he didn't know, with a boy he didn't know; a boy that resembled the man he'd fallen in love with that he was sure he'd seen die hardly a few hours ago...And the other...

The other was a boy hardly beginning into manhood. Wild and intuitive that had seen a figure racing through an abandoned field and become fascinated at the sight, it had looked as if they had been flying. Had seen them stumble, seen them fall, and then been there to help them up with the eager grin that one him the hearts of every decent hearted person for miles around.

"I do like that name though." The boy spoke absently, not really bothering to care that it was a stranger he was speaking to. After all, a stranger was just a friend waiting to be made. "It's like King Arthur from the old stories. He was a real hero, saving damsels and Camelot...You're lucky you got a cool name like that, you never hear of anyone cool with the name Alfred." He paused for a moment and then offered a faint smile. "My name's Alfred by the way."

Arthur couldn't help that his heart jumped in his chest, pausing on an otherwise steady beat at the sound of that name. He ruffled the boy's pale blonde hair, a smile finding its way to the corner of his mouth.

"It's not the name that makes the person Al. If you set your mind to it though, there will be a day when people will be honored to name their children after you." The boy tilted his head to one side, a curious expression set with the slightest hint of understanding. He grinned, and before he knew it he had thrown his arms around the taller man in a suffocating hug.

"You're totally right! If I do enough heroic deeds there won't be a person who says they can't do the same!" He stepped back, putting his hands on his hips, obviously feeling very pleased with this entire idea. "Just think about it, if an Alfred can be a hero...If someone as simple as me can do that...Then everyone can! And then...And then the world will be a brighter place, right?"

Already that boy's personality was set into place. The one that had caught Arthur's attention in the first place. Probably the only person in the whole world that would offer a ride to a completely drunk stranger on a cold winter's night. Arthur felt a pang go through his heart as he looked down at the smiling youth. Envy and pity wrapped in one look. Envy that he couldn't be all this young man could, he'd long lost that spirit...Pity because he knew how it would destroy him in the end.

And it would be all his fault. Breaking an innocent heart without a second thought. He wasn't dumb enough to believe he couldn't take the blame, to think that he could toss it off on Francis for being the one to filch his phone. That's just not how things went.

"Alfred, the world's already a brighter place just because you're here." The sudden sound of ticking filled Arthur's skull, the resounding thump of the doldrums crescendoing with every passing second. His vision blurred at the edges and nausea hit him like a hangover at the sound of an alarm going off five minutes before work was to start.

"You're a funny guy, but thanks!" A hand went awkwardly behind his neck as the boy smiled brightly up at him. "I'm going to make sure to be worthy of that compliment!" It felt as though the ground was slipping away from him at a rapid rate. Fruitlessly he reached out his hand to grasp for Alfred's arm, something to anchor him in this strange, dream-like world. As might have been expected, it was like slipping his hand through smoke.

Elusive but unattainable.

He could have cried out with the anguish of it. Where was the sense of fair play in this? The logic...The sense...The normalcy? Sure they were selfish thoughts, but he had to know what in the world had made it so his life was becoming this blur of moments and memories...That was making it so he didn't know what was up and what was down, what was real and what was fake?

He looked down into his hand; he didn't recall pulling the silver watch out of his pocket. And yet there it was...The cracks seemed to have faded somewhat...He looked at it quizzically as the leaves began to twist and writhe, leaping from the face of the clock to crawl up his wrist and entwine about his arm. His heart began to pound at a frantic rate, his green eyes wide with panic as he looked about the sudden, blurred emptiness.

In the distance he heard a separate clicking.

Like sharp heels on a freshly polished surface. There was a faint light and he swore he could see it reflecting off of bright red hair, could swear he saw the tiniest hint of a self-satisfied smirk. The tiniest peal of girlish laughter.

"Well done Arthur Kirkland, you haven't lost the entirety of your wits yet, I suppose this means you get to move on." A monotone voice with a vague hint of familiarity. He called out with a hoarse voice even though he wasn't completely sure that he was talking to anything of substance or just a figment of his fragmented mind.

"I don't know what you mean! I feel pretty damn crazy..._What the hell is all this_?" Another peal of laughter was his answer for the longest moment as he began to feel that nauseating tug from before. The tug that threatened to pull him under the surface of his own consciousness.

"It's what you asked for. Now repay your debt Mr. Kirkland before we extract the price on our own terms." More laughter. That damned ticking increased and he could no longer find his voice. Didn't even think to care. None of this mattered.

It couldn't possibly be real. He would surely wake up in a cold alley somewhere with nothing more than a normal hangover and the vague feeling that he'd had one hellish dream. Arthur knew in his heart, and without a doubt, that his mind had been playing tricks on him.

There was no Alfred Jones. It was just another figment of his imagination.

* * *

_Ugh, sorry for the slow update and the weird chapter...I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things...Any ideas on breaking writer's block?_


	9. Chapter 9

**_"I think I've found a way to let it go, but it's still too soon to know for sure. I'd give everything I am to just feel something."_**

The world slowly began to materialize, only to fall apart but a moment later.

"_Everyone, on the floor, keep your eyes on the ground or we'll shoot your fucking brains out_!" Hardly a breathe after a voice that could only belong to a life-long smoker, three cracking gunshots were fired into the air. Arthur immediately fell to the ground without thought, one arm covering his head and the other gripping the pocket watch for dear life. Nausea was fading quickly to be replaced by fear and adrenaline.

He didn't know this place, this cold floor with a very sterile looking design on the gray tiles...He did however know that it would be unwise to not follow the explicit instructions of the man with the gun.

Around him he could hear the faint whimpering of what must be the other people that had been trapped here. Which, by the sound of it, was a goodly amount of people. The whimpers mainly coming from what could only be little children. The thought of that alone made his fists clench together in frustration. No matter how scared he was, it didn't change the fact that he felt the need to do _something_. Couldn't lay here idly when there was the chance that someone could be murdered...Or even if someone had already been...

Why couldn't he even remember how he got here?

Couldn't remember what business he had...Just those instructions. Those infuriating instructions. Without thinking much of it, he peeked up from his position on the floor, just to see what he was up against. To be frank, he shouldn't have looked.

He _really _shouldn't have looked.

Four different men, dressed in varying shades of black were dispersed about a large looking foyer, with another casually leaning against what appeared to be a bank teller's window with a huge looking gun, (he couldn't possibly tell the type seeing as how weapons were not his expertise), cradled casually in his arm. Almost _too_ casually. This was a man that was obviously had no qualms with violence, which made the...reality of this only sink in further.

And yet, it almost felt as if this was happening to someone else.

Especially when he heard that hissing cigarette voice shouting something at him. Only, he didn't quite catch what the words were. Just that they were aimed at him. In fact...There were two other things now aimed at him. Very real looking guns.

His breath caught but he didn't dare move.

Instead, he was rooted to that spot as the one of the men strode towards him and proceeded to yank him up onto his knees by his hair. Amazingly enough, he managed to look up into the man's face and meet his steely eyes. There really was no reason to fear death, as far as he was concerned, it couldn't be all that bad in comparison to all of this. Whatever in the world _this _really was.

It might be nice to drift on into the oblivion anyway...There wasn't really anything else out there, of that he was entirely sure, he wasn't exactly a religious man after all. Not to say he hadn't tried his hand at it...Merely that it didn't stick, didn't compute with his logical brain. Or the fact that the world was just so screwed up, so painful, so...so...He couldn't even think of another analogy.

All he could do was grip that watch tighter in his fist.

"Something wrong with your head pretty boy?" The barrel of a gun was pressed against his temple and Arthur still couldn't bring himself to flinch away.

"You have no idea." Arthur grinned up at the man without much worry in the world. "Why don't you go ahead and pull the trigger and find out just how much?" The man towered over him, for some reason now seeming extraordinarily unsure about this whole situation. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't slightly disappointed when the man moved the gun away and merely looked down upon him.

"Heh," The cold, unforgiving sound of a murderer's laugh came right alongside the sound of another child whimpering, just a tad louder this time. "Let's see just how fucked up you are." It was at that statement that Arthur began to fear just what might be happening here. Even more so as he was wrenched to his feet by the front of a shirt he didn't recognize, green eyes widening as the man looked down and pulled the watch from his hand, looking it over with a what could only be considered a piggish smirk beneath his mask.

"Give. That. _Back_." It was nearly impossible to keep his voice steady, and he hardly recognized the dark undercurrent in his voice. Knew only that he wanted that watch back. He _needed_ it. Again came the sound of that child, inwardly he wished for it to quiet itself, even as he heard what could only be a parent trying to subtly comfort it.

"Tsk tsk pretty boy." There was a sneer in that voice that made him cringe inside as the man held that precious artifact away from him. "Let's play by the rules, shall we? Wouldn't want to cause undue trouble for all these lovely, _obedient_ folks." Arthur was pretty sure he had never felt so furious and helpless in his life. Francis was nothing more than a playground bully in comparison to this.

Kind of gave him a new view on life.

"Fine," He lowered his gaze for a moment as his mind tried to run through a quick synopsis of whatever the hell his options might possibly be in this situation. His main motivation being to get that watch back... And to protect the other people here of course...Couldn't bring the innocent down with him in this. "Just tell me what you want." He tried to ignore the few indrawn gasps, the sighs of disappointment at the hope he might be able to step and be a hero here.

It's not like he was a cop or anything. Didn't even have any training with physical combat, let alone disarming five fully capable men. Two of which watched with amused expressions as the one that had been at the teller's window stuffed wads of loose bills into a large canvas sack. (The presence of which was laughably unoriginal, but that was a thought he'd like to keep to himself thank you very much.)

"Now that's what I'm talking about." The man casually tossed an arm about his shoulders in such a way that Arthur immediately felt the desire to take a shower. "First thing I want you to do is to shoot that kid right over there in the corner before it starts crying again." It was uttered so casually that for a moment he thought that he had heard the man incorrectly and stood there with a blank look of shock on his face.

A look that was mirrored a thousand fold by the self-same child he had heard before, not to mention the very delicate looking mother that was now desperately clinging onto him.

"Don't worry, I'll let you use my gun, and if anyone gets in the way, just pull the trigger. Pretty simple huh?" Arthur felt sick to his stomach at the thought, but still managed a somewhat brave reply.

"And if decide to aim the gun at you instead?"

All he earned from that was another sharp peel of laughter, only this time it was echoed amongst the man's mates.

"I'm a pretty crazy bastard too, so even if you _ do _shoot me, I won't give a flying shit. But you will get everyone else in this place shot, yourself included. We don't take too kindly to some foreign pretty boy trying to play the hero around here. If you'd kept your mouth shut we coulda done this like we do just about every other damn day. This is why we should keep the fucking gates closed to the country, gotta keep trash like _you_ out."

Arthur's hands began to shake and his brows drew together in frustration. A moment after that, a wicked smile crossed his face.

"Hand me the gun." There was something in his voice that he never thought to hear. The determination that it would take to kill a man. Or a child. Or anyone. He really was a monster. There was no hope in the world after all, not really. He was aware of that much. Any heroes had long since fallen into the pages of a child's storybook fantasy. The man seemed to see the change in his demeanor, from one killer to another.

It was with a grin that the man relinquished his weapon and dangled the silver watch in front of Arthur's face.

"Do it."

The gun a lot heavier than it seemed. But then again, he'd never so much as touched one before. Never seen one up close. And here he was...With the power of life and death haphazardly cradled in the crook of his arm. He knew without a doubt that all eyes in that place were firmly locked upon him. Only a few sets were watching with a curious approval, while the numerous others with a disgusted fear and fascination.

He could do it.

He could become a villain.

Around him the world seemed to blur. He saw the path he could take. And it would be so _easy_. The mere flexing of a single finger. That's all it would take to end a human life. To solidify the truth that he knew to be real. And then the sounds began to come at him.

The heightened breathing of all of those within the foyer, the whir of sirens that he hadn't picked up on earlier alongside the faint hum of a voice in a megaphone. He hadn't even realized that the police were here. It was laughable really. The people that knew what they were doing, that trained for a life like this...Idly sitting by as he held life and death in his hands. The world seemed to be watching with a sick sort of fascination.

Oh how the world loved its' monsters. How they embraced tragedy as if it was just so unstoppable...And he was no different. He was reveling in this darkness that seemed to wriggle and writhe which each passing breath!_ He was no different!_

No hero hiding behind the facade of a fragile man!

For a dangling moment he considered turning the gun on himself. Simply taking his life out of the equation in general. Would he wake up somewhere else? Would this dreamlike dystopia dissolve at the crack of a gun?

Would he even be able to tell if he was dead or alive once he was done, or would he merely wander forever in this crooked existence? There was a harsh buzzing at his ears, like the keening of a banshee. The world was flipping to shades of gray.

If only it were so simple.

"Go on pretty boy, pull the trigger before we grow bored with watching you."

"Please, have a heart!"

"Shut her up pretty boy."

"You don't have to do this!"

"_Everyone, just STOP!_" He had shouted this before he'd even realized it. The words tore from his throat of his own volition, burning a strange trail up along his vocal cords. Where was the silence? That's all he wanted anyways. Just silence. Peace. Oblivion. Something pure and bright that could never possibly exist in this place. With a sharp, cruel grin, he turned and jabbed the barrel of the gun in the instigator's gut, pushing enough to make the threat obvious.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" The man spat the words, but there was a frantic look in his eyes. As might have been expected, his fellows merely stood there and watched with grins of amusement. Human lives were disposable to them after all, besides, this was providing more amusement than they had even hoped for in the first place.

"I'm a just another man." His grin seemed to widen as he watched the fear grow in the man's eyes, his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender, even if one of them was still gripping his watch. It only added fuel to his fire. Made his hands shake as he held the gun resolute. "And I've been pushed much too far."

"Will you guys just _shoot him already_?" Naturally, his friends merely laughed at the fear in their comrade's voice. So easily replaced.

"Looks like you've been abandoned, but let me tell you what, give me the watch, and I _won't_ blow a hole through your useless cowardly innards." The man let out a nervous gasp of laughter and held his hand out shakily to in an effort to hand the silver memento over. Arthur reached forward with one hand, the other still holding the gun to the distraught figure before him.

The metal was warm in his hand, and when he looked down at the clock's face, it had only a single crack down the middle where before he was sure it had spider-webbed across most of the glass...Now that was strange.

Not so strange as the sudden burst of armed policemen breaking through the bank's doors in the moment of silent confusion inside. All other weapons were dropped...Except for Arthur's. He couldn't bring himself to let go of it. The robbers dropped to the ground, hands over their heads as they had forced upon the patrons to do. The patrons that were now hesitantly beginning to look up and shakily move to their feet as the men were apprehended.

There was one uniformed man that carefully moved towards Arthur and the anonymous man he held at gunpoint.

"We heard what happened. Please lower your weapon, whether you realize it or not, what you've done today is nothing short of heroic." Arthur nearly choked on tears at the sound of that word. Couldn't stand it. Didn't ever want to hear it again.

There was no such thing as heroes.

He turned to the officer, a relatively young one by the look of things, with tears in his bright green eyes. He just barely caught the slightly taller man's piercing summer eyes beneath his helmet. The gun fell from his hand and clattered onto the floor.

It was nearly laughable.

Of course he recognized the officer, by this point, he could recognize those eyes anywhere. Yet again he'd conjured Alfred to his side just when he was about to destroy himself. He fell to his knees and looked up at the him with tears freely rolling down his face, the watch clasped like desperately like a nun's rosary beads within his hands.

"Please...Don't call me a hero." He sniffled, not hearing the sound of the forgotten assailant picking up the gun in a rash moment of revenge. It's human instinct to react out of anger and humiliation. Above him, the man that could only be Alfred widened his eyes and pulled his gun from the holster at his hip. There was a brief acknowledgment of defeat as there was the click of a trigger being pulled.

A single shot wedged itself into the anonymous man's heart just a moment later.

Arthur felt the bullet whistle by him. Just barely heard the man fall behind him, the dull clatter of that damned gun nothing but a farewell whisper. He had done something far worse than pulling the trigger himself. His eyes never wavered from Alfred's face as the realization sunk in.

He'd made someone else do it.

The one person he cared for above all others. Turned that pure-hearted man into a killer. Whether it was intentional or not. Necessary or not.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't grateful as he looked down into his hands to see the twisting leaves moving around the clock's face once more. Watched with desperate anticipation as the seconds began to tick away. He was crying once more as the blackness began to encroach. He forced himself to look up one more time to meet Alfred's gaze as he began to be pulled away.

"I love you Alfred."

He was pretty sure the words were only audible to his ears. The world dissolved around him far slower than it had before. It was a sign of insanity that Arthur thought he had heard a reply as he was tugged away. Knew it was impossible. Inconceivable.

Arthur could have sworn he heard his name being called.


	10. Chapter 10

**_"It's all for you, for you my friend. And I will fight for you til the bitter end."_**

"Arthur!"

The world coalesced about him with the sharp snap of a bow's string. He tripped forward, foot catching on a very crowded sidewalk that hadn't been there but moments ago. It was sheer unexplainable luck that he didn't crash and burn flat on his face. Not that it could have damaged it much further.

At least, in his opinion.

"Arthur, dude, I said to wait for me! Where are those famous English manners you brag so much about?" He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of that voice. It was following him everywhere for God's sake! Where was the respite for him, the time for his wits to gather about him in some semblance of his former sanity? Too much to ask for apparently. Within a breath, the warm presence that he had fair to memorized was right next to him.

An arm carelessly tossed about his shoulders.

What the hell had ever happened to logic? Arthur cringed a bit to himself, tucking the silver watch into his pants pocket. Didn't want to look at it just now. Didn't want to think about the places it had taken him. Because...Well...At least here, Alfred was happy. There was nobody waving a gun at him.

There was just the crashing tide of the ever-flowing city traffic.

A city he had only seen in photographs. He _really_ didn't want to know how the hell he had ended up in New York. Instead, he tried to relax. Letting the tension in his muscles suffuse until they were nothing more than a fragment of a memory better left forgotten. He smiled up at the easy-going American, leaning into his warmth, mind slowly beginning to settle into slightly more normal functions. Like remembering just how nice that smile was, how bright those blue eyes were.

"Well, you know. I'm not fond of acting proper _all_ the time." This earned a quick grin from Alfred, a light and heartening bout of laughter that seemed to make Arthur's troubles dissipate with the mere sound. Slide off with the millions of other disgusting things expelled into the city's air on a regular basis. Just another part of the collective smog.

"I'll give you that Arty. You're a pretty tough cookie." Arthur glowered for a moment at the sound of that nickname. Under..._different_ circumstances whoever so called him that would be sternly reprimanded...In this case he decided to make an exception. It was hard not to after all, it was Alfred. And here he was. Alive. Smiling. Joking. _Alive_.

And he had every intention of keeping him that way.

"I suppose." He smiled in that charmingly awkward way that disarmed most men. And made others more aware of just how much insecurity lay behind those words. Or, at least, Alfred did. But he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. To offer encouragement as was needed. Nothing too overt of course, just enough to reinforce a bit of positive energy.

Arthur was worth it after all. A man of extreme internal strength. He may not outwardly exude it, may seem like the average...slightly neurotic...British businessman, but he really was strong. Had some sort of odd agenda, and flighty behaviors, but Alfred was pretty sure that was just a minor quirk in the grand scheme of things.

He was, after all, the man that had called out to him in the midst of an extremely dark situation. One of the things he hadn't expected to see within his first year with the NYPD. Didn't change the fact that it had happened. And that he had killed a man. It had been a, (and no pun intended), hair trigger reaction.

To save somebody he didn't even know.

It didn't make him a hero. Not by any means. He had taken a _life_ after all. That was blood that could never be washed from his hands. Then why in the world did he so strongly want to spend time with the man he had saved? This Arthur Kirkland fellow. With the dull gold hair and the sharp clover eyes. Who had seemed keen and clever even under the most extreme duress. With an unfamiliar weapon shaking in his grasp.

That was one image he just couldn't shake.

So, perhaps this was just some effort to compensate for the damage he had caused. If he'd been a better officer, well he and the others could have stormed in there before hand... Could have saved most of those people from such duress. That darker spectrum of reality that few were ever privy to.

In any case, they weren't there now. It was a sunny day, relatively warm, he had one hell of a handsome man on his arm, and he was just another part of his favorite city in the world. Sometimes it was nice to become a part of the mass, to slip into anonymity and live life however he saw fit.

Which would be in a slow and casual current for the moment.

"So, what do you wanna do this afternoon? We have the best city in the world at our fingertips Arty, I could show you all that we Americans have to offer." He winked playfully at the shorter man as he steered them through the crowded walkways. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't a bit surprised when he noticed Arthur's arm wrapping about his waist as they walked, not to mention the pleasant surprise of his low laughter.

"In that case, show me everything Al. I want to see it all." Alfred couldn't quite help the rippling laughter that escaped his throat at that statement. And as an appropriate show of his joy he leaned forward at an odd angle to plant a kiss right on Arthur's cheek. Naturally, this earned two reactions. The first was a strangely bright blush from Arthur, and the other was a few chortling whistles by observant bystanders.

"Never thought ya would ask." One thing was for certain, Alfred was pretty sure that he hadn't had this much fun in a _long_ time.

"Oh?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, a strangely mischievous smirk set in place at the right corner of his mouth. "Then I bet you also would never think I would do this." And before Alfred could so much as giggle out a "What?", Arthur had pulled him to a stand-still on the sidewalk and kissed him right on the mouth.

Strike that thought, he was pretty sure this was even better. He couldn't help the grin on his face when Arthur pulled away with a rueful smirk. A little spark of strangely active butterflies his stomach at the site of that smile for some reason. It was so familiar, and yet he knew he hadn't met Arthur before the bank robbery. In any case, he wasn't about to complain.

"You were right Arty, I definitely wasn't expecting that."

*****xxxx*****

Somewhere in the course of traipsing about New York City with perhaps its greatest advocate, Arthur Kirkland began to have fun. He didn't care for the funny looks others gave them as Alfred dragged him around with their hands tightly clasped together like two overly-giddy youngsters, and he certainly didn't care he looked like an awestruck tourist over the simplest of things.

For the first time in his life, Arthur found that he didn't care about anything other than the moment surrounding him.

Trading innocent life facts with Alfred while simultaneously watching him devour a hotdog whole; learning that he had only just turned twenty and been drafted into the force so young on account of having an apparently famous grandfather, not to mention that he also had a weakness for accents. (Point one for Arthur.) It was just so...Simple.

Easy as breathing really.

He ignored the doubting voice in the back of his mind that kept haphazardly asking just when he would be dragged away from this peaceful place. Instead he held tightly to Alfred's hand as they made their way through Central Park since there was apparently a shortcut to Alfred's apartment through it. Not that he would have known either way on account of the fact that he had always had a _terrible_ sense of direction.

"So, I'm pretty sure that I've spilled just about every secret I've ever had, but you have yet to tell me too much about yourself Arty. So how 'bout it? What's a handsome British man like yourself doing wandering about New York with a man like me on a weekday?"

Obviously, Arthur didn't have much of an answer for that, so he did his very best to make one up. He offered a sly smirk to the taller man, not so subtly appreciating him with his clever clover eyes.

"Oh the usual thing us handsome British men do I suppose, charming the locals and causing a general public disturbance."

"Well, that is a crime you know. I could have you arrested Mister Kirkland." Arthur noted how Alfred didn't bother to disguise the playful tone in his laughter. It was really quite amazing how well they got along.

"It's quite fine, I'm on the run from the law anyways." He tried to mimic that dashing wink that Alfred did so well, though he was pretty sure he just looked like a dork. The funny part was the little blush that tried to cross the taller man's dashing face.

"Can't have a criminal like you on my streets, Arthur."

"Then by all means Mr. Jones, _arrest me_."

Arthur very well couldn't believe his own behavior. It was so...forward! And here he had always thought of himself as a calm, reserved gentleman. Sure liquor loosened his tongue...amongst other effects of course, but that used to be an extreme circumstance. This was just a casual conversation that he had made to drip innuendo!

It was quite exhilarating in its' own way.

"I think I'll have to take you up on that." Alfred's laughter filled the not so crowded walkway with warmth, the sun was just beginning to set and it was adding these soft peachy tones to his hair. It made Arthur want to run his hands through it, if he remembered correctly, (and he was fairly sure that he did), that hair was wonderfully soft.

And he had inadvertently ended up pulling it a few times...But that was beside the point, not to mention, a thought that made him want to blush from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

As might have been expected, he did end up blushing. And it did not go unnoticed by his "tormentor". In fact, Alfred decided to antagonize him a little further by leaning down and whispering low in his ear.

"I think you really want to be at my mercy, eh Arty?" For one, that statement totally tickled poor Arthur's earlobe, and for two...Well, he couldn't quite think up another complaint. Or really, well it wasn't a complaint at all. It had just tickled after all. And caused him to remember the not so subtle seductive arts that the American possessed.

He bit his lower lip and remained silent as they strolled off of their lonely walkway and onto one of the slightly more crowded sidewalks that lead out of the park and towards a set of very large buildings.

"My lips are sealed." Was the only response he could muster.

"We'll see how long that lasts." Alfred's laugh came again, causing a new little knot of anxiety to alight itself in the pit of Arthur's stomach. He hadn't really spent a lot of time with Alfred under...sober circumstances. So, the way in which things were moving...Well, his tell-tale anxiety had no choice but to kick in just a tad as they crossed the street.

It was instinct really.

"You know, you had better make me some dinner when we get upstairs." It was a pathetic attempt to slightly deter the mood that he had gone and created. And he was naturally rewarded with a playful chuckle as they made their way up the solid front steps of the shiny, nearly metallic building that apparently housed Alfred's apartment.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice in this?"

"Unless you want me to cook."

"You cook?"

"You really don't want me to. I once made a bloke swear that he would never have fish and chips again thanks to me." It was an embarrassing tidbit of his past that he really hadn't meant to share, but it was funny in a weird sort of way. At least, he could chuckle to himself about it nowadays. When it had actually happened he'd been half tempted to lock himself in his kitchen with a pile of Rachel Ray cookbooks. (Some apparently famous cook in America.)

As it was, he settled for never cooking again. Okay...Well, he cooked for himself still, but he could stomach it. Most of the time.

"So, stairs or elevator?" Apparently Alfred didn't want to take a dig at his terrible cooking skills. It was a surprising respite.

"How far up?"

"Seventh floor."

"Stairs." He couldn't bare the thought of the elevator for a reason only obvious to himself. It wasn't the fear. No, _that_ he could handle. But there was something about taking it now, with Alfred, that just felt strange. Like he was purposely trying to re-enact that one night.

The only night.

"I'll race you."

"You're on."

It was no big surprise that Arthur was very nearly out of breath by the third flight of stairs. He was huffing by the fourth, wheezing by the fifth, and walked up the sixth. Alfred remained at least five steps ahead of him every time. He supposed there really was no outrunning a police officer anyway.

Though, he _was_ pleasantly surprised when Alfred offered his hand on the last step, a winningly bright smile set on his bright face. He really had no choice but to take that hand, a look of absolute exhaustion written upon his own features.

"Don't worry, I'm only a little way down the hallway."

"You know, I'm not _that_ out of shape." Arthur huffed out indignantly as he began to trail after the briskly walking American.

"Keep telling yourself that Arty." Alfred's grin showed anything but a sense of seriousness as he began fiddling with a small set of keys at a door that read seven-twenty-three.

He didn't really want to bother with a response, excited to see the place where Alfred lived. Before it had been a relatively sparse hotel room, and even then, he hadn't taken the time to take in many of the details. But this was different. You could tell a lot about a man by the way they kept their home.

Needless to say, he wasn't all that surprised to find a place that was a contradiction between hurriedly tidy and haphazardly cluttered. He had to bite his lip to hold back a small chuckle as he noticed a pile of freshly folded laundry on the kitchen table that included a pair of boxers with the Superman symbol on them.

Now,_ that _was not so much of a surprise.

"Nice place you have here." He chortled as Alfred tossed his keys upon the counter, nearly letting them skid into the sink as he came up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist in a surprisingly casual gesture.

"Stop trying to flatter me." He nipped playfully at Arthur's ear before nuzzling up against his neck. Arthur could only remember far too well the way this man's breath felt upon his skin, couldn't help the sudden rush of desire that punched through his veins.

"Hmm, wouldn't dream of it Al." He leaned into the taller man's embrace, the logical side of his brain already starting to fog over.

"Oh?" Another low chuckle, and hands deftly sliding up under the soft blue cotton shirt he didn't ever remember owning.

"Aren't you supposed to be making me dinner?" This was a just an afterthought of course, his...erm, hormones already had a much different idea.

"I will." Those warm hands skimmed lightly upon his skin and Arthur's clover eyes fluttered for a brief moment. "_After._"


	11. Chapter 11

**_"Tonight there is a situation, tonight it's the end of the world. It's the end of the world. It's the end of tonight."_**

Alfred's touch was headier than he remembered.

Hands sliding deftly over his skin, lips trailing along just behind them. His clothes had been carelessly tossed off on the way to the cluttered bedroom, and Alfred's weren't far behind. He'd forgotten the soft glow of Alfred's skin, the spark in those dark blue eyes as they hovered above him. The feel of that damnably intoxicating kiss.

The small rustling sound of the sheets rumpling about their bodies, accompanied only by the faint sound of echoing sighs and the other markers of such a night filled the room. They hadn't even bothered to close the door behind them. A rushing sort of patience. Taunting, teasing. The slow buildup of passion followed by the rushing free fall of gratification. All of it was so much more than he remembered. And to think that he had locked it so greedily in the vault of his memory.

He silently prayed that this night would never end.

And it didn't for a long time. There was only one pause in between the beginning and the slow, rosy light of sunrise. Which just so happened to be for a quick bout of dinner in bed and more than a couple large glasses of water. Not to mention a few lazy smiles and casually knowing glances. It was a nothing less than the sweetest perfection. Like the first juicy bite into a ripe strawberry; a delicate temptation that only promised more.

There was more. Always more. At least, until the two men fell in an exhausted heap on the large, rumpled bed, drifting off to sleep with identical smiles on their faces. It was very nearly noon by the time either man began to stir. It was Alfred, a satisfied smirk sweeping across his features when his bleary eyes alighted upon the sleeping Englishman whose head lay upon his chest and had an arm carelessly thrown about him.

That was not something he had expected to see. But, he wasn't about to complain really. It was a handsome sight. Dull gold hair catching the sunlight filtering through his blinds, that little light also dancing down the upper part of his torso.

It was a shame to get out of bed.

He carefully shimmied away from the still sleeping Arthur, making his way over to his dresser and tossing on a fresh pair of boxers. (They were his absolute favorite, mostly because they had the McDonald's logo right on the front.) Tossing another quick glance towards his handsome guest, he made his way to the restroom to relieve his bladder and brush his teeth. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he was pleasantly surprised by the smile that kept sneaking across his face.

Even as he slipped his glasses up the slender bridge of his nose, he figured he could wear them safely around Arthur,that smile remained in place. They didn't make him look _too_ terrible after all.

In any case, he was on the top of the world as he began to pick up the scattered pieces of his and Arthur's clothing. And as he grabbed the nice fitting pants the man had been wearing, something fell out of the pocket and skittered across the living room floor.

It was a small silver pocket watch.

With a rueful grin set firmly in place, Alfred leaned over and picked up the lovely trinket. He held it in the palm of his hand for a moment, and as he did, a curious expression crossed his mien. It was almost a familiar piece, like a rush of deja vu. There were nice vines that wound about the face of the clock, which was slightly cracked. A small, infinitesimal thing really. And yet, there was no steady tick, it was a dead piece.

Strange that a man would carry a broken watch.

A small rush of nausea washed over him as he continued to study it. A finger idly tracing over the vines, smooth, well-worn as if the watch had been handled by a hundred hands before his own. That, or the same pair of hands lovingly washing over it in a habitual gesture. Which was what he classified it as. It had to be an important thing for Arthur to carry it around so compulsively. So it was the Alfred finished picking up the other articles of clothing before bringing them back to his room where Arthur was just beginning to stir.

"Morning there sunshine." He chuckled this as he watched the sleep tousled Englishman stretch, hands already combing though his tangled hair. He grumbled something under his breath that Alfred couldn't quite catch, not that it mattered either way. This was a truly captivating picture after all. "And according to your watch, it's nearly half past eleven."

Apparently those were the wrong words.

Arthur immediately sat bolt upright, clover eyes wide and frantic in an expression he hadn't expected to see this morning. It was the look of a man having the final damning piece of evidence that indicated him for murder thrust before him in an interview room. A look that he knew all too well. A look that seemed inexplicable in the given circumstances. Obviously there was more to the simple watch that he held in his hand than he had originally deduced.

"It's working?" There was a strange tremor in his sleepily accented tenor.

"No...Was it originally? Did I break it? If so, I'm really sorry. I could probably fix it for you." The words escaped his throat of their own volition. But he did really hope that he hadn't broken the trinket, especially if it really was all that important to Artur. For some reason, the man's opinion mattered more to him than he had thought to let it. Strange that he should find himself becoming so easily attached to a relative stranger.

He was surprised by the sudden peal of nervously relieved laughter.

"No...That's why I was surprised."

"Had me scared for a minute. You'd best get it from me just in case though."

Arthur didn't know how to explain that he did _not _want that thing back. Maybe, if he never looked at it again it'd just go away. He wouldn't be ripped out of this time only to be flopped down somewhere else. Didn't want to go back to the dismal reality that he had left behind. He didn't have much of a choice though when the watch came flying at his head at a hundred miles an hour.

He was barely able to deflect what would surely have been a deadly blow. Could already have imagined the obituary on that one. "Young British Man Mysteriously Dies Naked in Bed After Being Hit in the Head With A Magical Time Traveling Pocket Watch". It would have been a shame if ever there were one.

"Don't give a man much warning do you Al?" Arthur grumbled this as he anxiously looked down at the all too familiar clock face, his vision blurring for just a moment as he did so. As a result he quickly turned the face upside down and looked up and away from it, not caring if his behavior seemed odd.

If Alfred noticed, he didn't say much of anything to show concern.

"Just gotta be on your toes old man." He winked then, before diving headfirst onto the bed and right into Arthur's lap, arms automatically wrapping about his waist.

"I am _not_ old!"

"Really? I think I see some gray hair up there!"

Arthur probably would have been able to feign nonchalance if he hadn't anxiously started pulling at his hair to see if that were the case. Sometimes he really was too insecure.

"You liar."

He was answered with a playful kiss to his lower stomach followed by a grumbling laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of lying to you _Arty_." At this the Englishman quirked an eyebrow, thoughts already diverting themselves from the watch and to other things. Like the fact that he had spent several hours of his night having the best sex of his life with a man that was now lazily lounging in his lap.

Not to mention the fact that he was still naked.

"_Ehem_," It was perhaps without _too_ much tact that the now...aggravated man cleared his throat. "I should probably be hopping in the shower though, if that's alright with you." He really did lack any sense of casual bedside manner, probably do to the fact the only "morning afters" he'd ever had were with that devil of a boyfriend he earned was a mischievous smirk by the man in his lap, blue eyes seeming brighter even with the filtered sunlight.

"Only if you let me follow you in there." Arthur began to open his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Only live once after all, and if there was anyone he could stand to...shower with, it'd be the one now teasing him about it. So it was, with perhaps a bit of chagrin, that the normally proud Englishman grinned just about ear to ear as way of accepting that offer.

His worries could wait a little longer.

*****xxxx*****

It was roughly an hour later, when the water began to run cold that Alfred left his new lover in the water to finish cleaning himself off. He combed his hands through his now soaking wet hair as he made his way back into his room to get dressed for the day. Unfortunately, he didn't have too much longer to goof around with Arthur, he had to report for duty at precisely three p.m.

And it was now a quarter past one.

Time well used if he did say so himself. After toweling off he shimmied into a fresh pair of the dark blue pants that helped make up his work uniform, forgoing the shirt for a little while so that he could fix his very rumpled bed. Now normally he would be quite content to leave it in a haphazard heap until he unceremoniously fell into it after his shift at work, but now was the time to make a semi-decent impression on Arthur.

Mainly he just wanted to seem like a halfway tidy man.

Only, the moment he snapped off the comforter, a tiny little trinket went flying across the room before thumping softly onto the floor. Arthur had left that watch on his bed, which was really almost funny considering how important it had seemed. In any case, Alfred sighed, dropping the blanket onto the floor so he could pad over to the watch and stick it in his pocket before it was inadvertently harmed any further.

It was oddly warm to the touch. Strange for the mere fact that earlier it had felt so cool as untouched silver often does, he flipped it over in his hands, carefully studying it once more. Maybe there was just something special about this thing that he hadn't worked out just yet.

But he figured he had enough time to waste a couple minutes looking it over.

Funny thing was, the more he looked at it, his head began to hurt. Like the most hellatious migraine he could imagine slowly crowding in on him. He ran his hands over the interesting vine work, fingers memorizing every dip and every minute detail of the intricately carved leaves; his eyes studied the second hand that upon closer inspection seemed like it was trying to move but was caught on something.

What that something was, he had no clue.

And it was difficult to concentrate when he could feel his skull pound along with his heartbeat, his vision blurring just a bit as it did. When he began to feel nauseous he decided to set the watch away from him. It was hardly an instant later that his head began to clear. Now that was a strange observation.

So he picked it up once more.

And as soon as it was in his hand, he began to feel sick once more. Now that was _really _strange. No time to ponder just what caused it though, not when Arthur casually sauntered into his room with nothing but a dark green towel wrapped about his waist.

"Do you think you have any clothes that would fit-" The Englishman didn't bother to finish that request, not when he noticed what Alfred was holding. Couldn't help that his eyes widened and all of the blood drained from his face so that he was nearly a sickly pale shade. "Could you toss that here Al?" He couldn't even keep the tell-tale tremor out of his voice.

Alfred wasn't so dumb as to not notice any of this. And he wasn't so dumb as to toss the trinket to the nervous man. Instead, he clutched it tightly in his fist and narrowed his eyes at Arthur.

"There's something weird about this watch, isn't there? Something you're not telling me..."

"It's just a normal watch Al, seriously." There was something in Arthur's tone that made him think about it a little harder. Recall the day that had brought them together...Remembered part of what had caused the distraction was that one of the robbers had taken something...Something small and shockingly silver.

A small piece of the puzzle clicked itself into place.

"No, it's not." His voice was surprisingly level, the tone he normally only used when he was at work. "There's something about it you're not telling me Arthur. I saw the way it affected you when it was taken during the robbery. Remember that?"

So far Arthur had gotten away with saying that he was too traumatized over the events of their meeting to talk about it, in fact, he'd insisted that Alfred not bring it up when they were together. Which, at the time, had made plenty of logical sense. It'd been a stressful situation after all. But there was something about this entire scenario they were currently entangled in that just didn't sit right with him.

"It's just an old family heirloom..."

"You're lying."

"I am not!"

"Arthur, I _am_ a cop, I can tell when someone is lying to me. Like you're doing right now. And unless you tell me what's so damn important about this watch, you're not going to get it back." Arthur's brows drew together at that, his shoulders straightening as his demeanor changed to one of more incredulous agitation.

"Fine, you want to know what it is so badly?" There was a harsh snapping note in the older man's voice that he hadn't expected to hear. Just the slightest hint of hysteria intermingling with frustration. "It was a gift from a dying man. The most important man in my life, and he _died_ giving this to me. And it was all my fault that he got there in the first place, I couldn't even offer him any solace in the end. I couldn't even tell him just how much I loved him! He_ died _because of _me_! So, this is all I have left of him okay?"

Alfred's hold on the watch loosened as he watched Arthur. A few tears had crept out of his bright green eyes, his fists bunching at his side as he looked up at him. A lump formed in the back of his throat, he was at a loss for words. It wasn't what he'd expected by any means. Even if he hadn't expected anything at all.

He should have known there was someone else. Someone before him that had left a permanent mark on Arthur's life. It would be foolish for him to think otherwise. Kind of funny how he'd hoped that he could be that special person. He hardly knew the man after all, had only met him under the most extreme circumstances.

What a grand fool he was!

"Fine, I understand." How he wished he could keep that harsh tone out of his voice. "Here." It was perhaps a tad too harshly that he tossed it at Arthur's feet, but he didn't really care. He turned his back, going over to pick up the comforter he'd abandoned, something to focus on other than the lump in his throat that made him want to cry.

But he wouldn't do it. He steadfastly refused.

It was that stubborn pride that blinded him to Arthur's actions. The hesitant movements of picking up the discarded watch, his hands shaking as he did so, the tears in his clover eyes only multiplying with the passing seconds of silence. He didn't notice the pain this seemed to cause, how he began to shake more, and he didn't notice the way his body began to fade.

At least, not until it was too late.

"The King Court's bar; London. December the eighteenth. Find me there Alfred."

"What are you-" He turned to answer that tremulous tenor voice, his eyes widening as he watched Arthur continue to fade away. Just barely able to make out that handsome face that he had already memorized to the tiniest detail. "How am I...Arthur?"

"Just find me Alfred, I'll be waiting."

It was a miracle that he was able to make out the older man's voice by then. It was fuzzy, as if filtered through a radio not quite tuned to the right frequency. He was completely and utterly frozen to his spot as the man that he'd only just been conversing with faded into oblivion as if he had never even been there in the first place.

Even in the chaotic maelstrom of his thoughts he was able to pick out one thing. Regardless of whatever obstacles he came up against, he would find a way to make it to England. London to be precise. Thankfully he still had a few months until December.

Because, as improbable as this whole thing was, he had a date to keep.

And he had every intention of doing just that.

He was going to save Arthur Kirkland.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Well...This is the final chapter. Thank you so much for staying with me til the end, I really appreciate it and hope you enjoy this ending! I know it took long enough to get to, so thank you so much once more!_

**_"So close to the end you're almost home, now please hurry cause I'll be waiting for you like I always do."_**

It was to the unending nothing that Arthur was exiled to.

And he was stuck there in silence for a _long _time, so long in fact, that he was relatively sure that his mind was dissolving with each passing second. Never before had he been frightened of the dark. But now that it was everywhere; without even the tiniest hint of light... it was what he imagined death was like.

Being surrounded by nothing, a part of nothing, with no way to see anything more. To say that it was maddening would be an understatement. For while he was there, here... wherever he was, he was nowhere at all. Couldn't tell if he was standing or sitting, Arthur couldn't so much as feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.

If he was even breathing at all.

After awhile his mind began to deviate to old memories. Replaying them in the crispest of detail as a way to occupy his fading mind. Childhood squabbles, familial reunions, petty triumphs and failures all exposed now with the utmost clarity. Things that he had almost forgotten, things he was glad to see replayed.

It would be a relief under other circumstances.

As it was, Arthur couldn't concentrate on anything longer than five seconds. That is, until there was a flicker of light. It was quickly followed by another, like the striking of a match, a bright show of flame and color, quickly fading after the initial burst. And then there came the tell-tale clicking of what could only be a woman's heels on a polished surface. His fists clenched at his sides and he was relieved to know they were still there.

The unwelcome voice that spilled into the otherwise empty area resounded with the crack of a gunshot upon his ears. That first lifting of the veil that had settled over his senses.

"So Arthur Kirkland, tell me, have you figured out your purpose yet?"

"Isn't that something I find out when I die?" He was surprised by the sharp retort that dived off the tip of his tongue. Strangely enough he didn't regret it, not when he noticed the angry spark in emerald eyes that appeared on a face from nowhere. That damned woman again. The same from before, the hospital, the nothing place before.

"Cynicism doesn't _quite_ suit you." She clicked her tongue and it was the beat of doldrums.

"Too bad, I'm kind of stuck with it. Thanks to you and your little cohort tossing me into this _wonderful_ situation." His thick brows drew together, where was that other girl anyway? It always seemed to be this one that did all the talking...Well, either way, he'd rather deal with this woman.

"Some would take it as a chance for an attitude adjustment." She raised a single eyebrow as her eyes appraised him like a fishwife eying a prospective purchase at the market. "But you only seem to be deteriorating, such a shame since you weren't doing so well in the beginning." For some reason it was this last statement that hit a cord in the back of Arthur's mind.

"You know nothing of what I've been through! I don't care if you're the one throwing all this at me or not, but until your feet have walked where mine have, and your eyes have seen what these hands have done, then you know _nothing_." He practically spat the last word, his clover eyes glittering with an inner strength the rest of him wasn't quite aware that he had.

It was that breaking point, when pain has been so keenly polished as to make it into the perfect weapon for dismantling it. And it seemed that Arthur Kirkland was beginning to grasp this. That the debt he owed Alfred was more than his life. He owed it to that man to live a happy and fulfilled life, no matter the pain or the cost. He'd seen what Alfred truly was.

A pure heart, a light spirit. Willing to do anything for a person regardless of what it may cost him in the end. Like killing that robber in that brief moment...to even the helping hand in the bar. He never let anything bring him down, didn't drown his sorrows in a bottle, didn't blame it on the cruelty of the world.

Because he was out there making it a better place.

And so it was that he began to laugh. The unfamiliar sound bubbling up from the back of his throat and spilling unbidden from his lips. He was perhaps one of the most stubbornly foolish men in the world. To have brought it to this when really he could have changed the outcome all along. He only prayed there was some way to utilize this knew knowledge brimming inside him, this strangely light feeling in the center of his chest.

"Maybe you aren't quite so hopeless as my sister originally thought." Even at the snapping cord of the woman's voice, Arthur did not flinch. He met her glittering eyes with the calm and resolute knowledge of one that had already seen it all. That had felt the sharp pangs of life and was just beginning to realize all the joys it could hold.

A theatre's curtains being raised for a stunningly bright performance he had never quite expected.

"I would like to thank you for this." His best response was a small smile at the corner of his handsome mouth, a gentlemanly bow from his waist. "For all of this, for no matter the hand you played, be it for good or ill...I am extraordinarily grateful." Even the darkest and most stubborn of men could be humbled, he was proof enough of that.

And amusingly so.

The woman raised a single eyebrow, appraising his sudden change of attitude with an incredulous smirk that quickly turned into a strangely musical bout of laughter. Arthur watched, happy and yet still unsure about just how this would play out in the end, truth be told...He had his fingers crossed hopefully behind his back.

Then just as quickly as it had begun, the woman's laughter ceased. Her emerald eyes held the gaze of Arthur's hopeful clover ones for a long moment before she opened her mouth to speak.

"You're a strange creature indeed Arthur Kirkland, but one worthy of happiness nonetheless. Now, let's see what I can do for you."

*****xxxx*****

It was not a great amount of time before Alfred was making arrangements to get a few weeks off in December from work for a trip to London. Easy enough to arrange around a boss that had been hounding him to take a vacation for what had seemed like forever. What was not quite so easy would be procuring the proper funds for the said trip.

So it was to his Grandfather's that he reluctantly went.

Now, the old man had long taken to doting on his eldest grandson, if perhaps only for the reason that he was nearly identical to his older brother that had passed when they'd been ought but young men. The typical genes of the Jones family ran strong in him after all. The tall stature, the impetuous blue eyes, that bright blond hair and the unshakeable air of justice.

They were a family well praised in their community. Always kind and giving without though. But it had been the eldest Jones boy to go off to war when the call was given back in the forties, that didn't return. All that was ever sent back was an beaten up bomber jacket, a few medals, and a letter from some English man who he'd apparently befriended before being sent off to fight the Nazis.

Naturally, when the old man's grandson came racing up his front steps with a look of strangely frantic worry in his normally confident eyes that his curiosity was piqued. He recalled with perhaps too much precision that self-same look when his brother had come home saying he'd signed up fight for his country. A well-worn smile sneaked across his comfortably wizened features as he watched the young man from his normal place at his rocker.

"In a hurry Alfred?" For a moment he'd nearly called him Alfy...The nickname of that old brother of his that his grandson was so named for. Some of the less relaxed members figured it'd doom him to an early death just like his predecessor but good ol' Grandfather Jones knew differently by this point. He may be a lot like his brother, but he'd make sure they didn't share the same fate.

Lives just didn't repeat after all.

"Not all that much Grampa." He grinned from ear to ear, but the old man was clever enough to know that it wasn't quite sincere.

"Then sit down and take a load off, it looks like you practically ran here." His eyes were a lighter shade of blue than his grandson's due to the passing of time, but they still saw the world with a sharp level of clarity that helped him get a better feeling for what was up here. He leaned back in his chair, feigning typical relaxation and the comfort of lazily passing the day away upon his front porch.

Naturally it wasn't all that long before Alfred began to fidget from his seat on the front step of that porch. And it was then that he began to speak, quite rapidly and with that breathless conviction that ran so strongly in their family.

"I really hate to ask...And I know I really shouldn't, but I have this umm..._friend_ in trouble. But they're well, they're in England, and I can't exactly y'know _afford_ to get there...So well...It's not nice of me to ask, especially since you're always so nice to me anyways...But I'm really worried you see, and I really care about them...Like more than anyone else I can think of...I mean besides you and my folks of course! But well...do you think it'd be possible you could help me get to London by December?" The old man was hard put not to let loose a breezy laugh that threatened in his chest at the sight of his grandson's behavior.

It was all too obvious that the boy was in love. He had that look about him that was so easy to recognize, and he could tell there was definitely more to it than was shown on the surface, but who was he to judge? After the many things he'd seen over the years he'd learned to go along with the feelings that pushed people so strongly that they acted in ways not so typical of them.

It was endearing, that pure feeling that he recognized in his grandson's clear summer sky eyes. He'd always needed someone to ground him, and by that look...He might just have found that one.

"Whatever you need Alfred, I know very well what you're going through. And before you open your mouth to say otherwise, I'm not old enough to forget the joys of youth. My brother had that look about him when he left, and I'm almost sure he had someone over there across the ocean that was calling to him too, it'd be wrong for me to deny you when you need this." He winked one of his blue eyes and began to move that creaky old body of his up and out of his rocker.

"I...I don't know how to thank you Grampa." Alfred was already up and attempting to help him move towards the front door when the old man shooed his hands away. They were a proud lot after all, and he wasn't quite so old enough that he couldn't open a door for himself after all.

"Can I just ask you to do one favor for me though?" A slow smile slid across his face, the lightness in it seeming to make the wrinkles disappear, a more youthful visage emerging as he looked his grandson over. There was a feeling deep in his chest telling him that all of this was going according to some grand plan much greater than himself.

"Anything you want, I promise it'll be done!" That bright spark was only seeming to grow in the young man's eyes, it kindled a fond feeling in the elder's chest, even as he shuffled slowly inside his home with all the energy of a sick let out a low, wheezy chuckle as he began to climb up the stairs that lead to the bedroom used for storage.

"I'm not even quite sure it's possible, but I'm old enough to even attempt it anyways, so I figure if there's anyone that can give it an even halfway decent go-around it'll be you." His worn slippers slid a bit on the carpeted stairs, but with Alfred behind him they eventually made it to the somewhat dusty old room that deserved a bit of good spring cleaning.

With a surprisingly quick turn of the doorknob the two men made there way over to the one well-kept portion of the room. Hardly a speck of dust had settled on these boxes, and as the younger Jones read the label, he knew well enough why. It was his Great Uncle Alfred's things, the man for whom he was named for. At the very least, his attention was spiked.

A new vigor had infused the old man as he opened the first box of his brother's things, the treasure he had been seeking right at the very top. That beaten up old coat, the leather had a few dingy patches that appeared with time, but the strange gold star over the left lapel still remained, along with the little airplane patch that was only just beginning to lose its' color.

Behind him he heard the subtle intake of his grandson's breath. This was practically the family treasure after all.

"For first things, I'm sure my brother would have wanted you to have his coat, besides I know you don' t have a good one and it'll be cold when you get over there, so no arguments with me on it." The grin on his face widened as he dug a little deeper in the box, his skinny, brittle fingers quickly alighting upon the final piece of memory he wanted to bring to light.

It was a brittle looking envelope, aged nearly yellow with time, though the fact it still existed was a testament to loving reverence with which it'd been handled over the decades. Arthur's golden brows drew together in a slight show of curious confusion as he watched the old man handle the envelope, his fingers deftly pulling the smallish scrap of paper from its aged depths before handing it over.

"I know it's a long shot, but if it's even remotely possible...I'd like you to find a way to thank the man that sent this letter. He gave me hope when I found that my brother was gone." There was the calm acceptance of past pain slipping into his tone, but it was combined with that optimism that seemed to pervade their family stronger than most.

Alfred nodded a show of acquiescence as he carefully opened the ancient letter to peruse the contents. Of all the things he'd come to expect, this was not one of them...He'd really have to start believing in the impossible at this point.

_Dear Mr. Thomas Jones,_

_I truly hope you don't mind my formality, but I am terrible with words and I feel that I must fulfill this task with all the solemnity that I contain inside this body. I'm sure you haven't heard of me, but I'm a friend of your brother Alfred...Or...I suppose I should say that I was. I truly hate to be the bearer of bad news, but even then I'm sure you have been contacted by the officials of your military of the state of your sibling._

_I regret to inform you of his death, but please let me tell you that he died nothing short of a hero. He rushed out into the front lines ahead of our allied troops in an attempt to quell a surprise attack by our Nazi enemies. He fell from the sky and continued to fight for what I know to be a long time as I was there beside him...There is not a one like him, and I shall be eternally grateful for the things he did not only for our fellow man, but for myself._

_He was of a pure heart, and almost blind courage. (Though he assured me that was a family trait on more than one occasion.) And, as much as it pains me to admit...He took the shots meant for myself, and that is not a debt I believe I can ever properly repay. But I will not let his gift go to waste, already I have the start of a family on the way here, as I'm sure he would have were he still here among us. I would just merely like to offer you my most humble condolences and a promise that any of your folk will be warmly received should they ever visit._

_But, more than anything, I have one final message to relay from your brother. He would like me to tell you to never give up on life, on your family and on those you care about. Even when it seems darkest, there is no distance that can separate you from that passion that drives you, from the love that inspires you. I truly hope his words may be of some help, they inspire me daily. Thank you, and my most humble condolences be with you and your family once more._

_Best Regards, James Kirkland._

There were bumps where the pen that had been used seemed to have been pressed into the paper with more than the usual vigor, along with a few splotches that were probably from tears shed by either party. And as for Alfred, he had goosebumps as he read over the contents one, two, three more times. By the end he'd committed the words to memory.

"I'm not quite sure if I'll find this man in particular Grampa...But I'm almost positive that I know _his_ relative, maybe even grandson. So you have my best promise that I'll do everything in my power to relay your message." The two men held the others' gaze for what was a very long moment, the past relaying a somber truth to the future.

"Thank you Alfred, all I ask is that you come home in one piece okay?" The younger man smiled faintly as he observed his favorite relative, those eyes that had seen so much, and held on to one of the world's most obvious...and most often overlooked truths.

"I promise Grampa."

* * *

_The next is the final chapter. I was gonna post it all together but it's really long...So...see ya there! 3_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Well here we are...The real end...I'm really kind of sad to see it go, it's been my little fanfic baby for so long! Thanks a million to all of you have stuck with me, all your kind words have been so greatly appreciated! Time to take that final step with Alfred and Arthur!_

**_"I need you more than you could know and I could never let you go."_**

Liquor always made the yearning stronger.

And as things currently stood, there was a lot of liquor currently rushing through Arthur Kirkland's veins. He'd somehow wrestled the emerald bottle from the barkeep and was swigging away happily as he ranted in some nonsense tone that no one could quite understand. He teetered dangerously on the edge of his bar stool, hiccuping and shaking the bottle with a vigor in an effort to somehow conjure more precious liquid inside.

In the back of his mind, two opinions warred with a strangely sharp consistency. One was an overwhelming urge to start a fight with the aforementioned barkeep for more of whatever the hell he'd been drinking for the past three and a half hours...And the other was a nearly crippling sense of deja vu.

He pulled his old pocket watch out of his slack's pocket and glanced at the time, nearly a quarter past eight...For some reason he had the feeling as though someone was running terribly late, and it was making him far more irritable than he would have been under different...sober circumstances. He ran a hand through his messy golden hair as his bleary clover eyes bounced around the bar.

That yearning flared as another trickling drop of fiery liquid raced down his throat. It was nearly inexplicable, this feeling. Like he was missing some vitally important information that he'd desperately attempted to commit to his already faulty memory. His thick brows drew together in agitation as he glanced down at the old trinket in his free hand...And then, without thinking, he let the bottle he'd been so lovingly caressing fell from his hands and shatter upon the dingy bar.

"Alright, that's it Kirkland, get your sodding ass out of my bar. I don't have patience to deal with you anymore tonight." Now _that_ was extremely irritating, he was the one paying for that bloody drink after all! He'd been in here providing this man with more than a few pounds, and was now being treated like a run of the mill drunkard!

Just as he slammed his fist down on the bar, nearly slicing his hand on the scattered emerald glass, a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and a low voice chuckled in his ear.

"_I thought you Englishmen were supposed to have manners_."

There was a strangely familiar American lilt to that voice...Strange since he was quite sure he'd never spent more than a few moments conversing with any of those. And yet, as his bleary clover eyes appraised the man now looking at him with a slightly sardonic smile... Another wave of deja vu rushed over him, though that might just have been a wave of nausea, but either way.

"Who're you...to judge a man just 'cause he's had a few..drinks?" Arthur's hand clenched around the watch he didn't remember he was still holding as he looked up at the taller man, desperately scanning those wide blue eyes for some other hint of recognition. All he could recover was a tickling in the back of his mind.

"Just consider me a...concerned citizen." It was irritating how it seemed that man was having a hard time not breaking down into laughter. "Would you mind accompanying me outside, I have a few things I'd like to say to you...If you don't want anything to do with me after that, then I promise to get you a cab and send you on your way, but you're definitely not having anything else to drink tonight." And for some reason...Arthur didn't particularly want to argue with this strange American fellow, and so he did something he didn't expect he'd ever do.

He stumbled out of a bar on a cold winter's night, without a coat, with a complete and utter stranger.

"So whatdidjya want huh?" In the back of his mind, he hated the way his words slurred together and made a mental note to lay off on the drink in the future. Even if the reasoning behind this drunken spree still remained elusive to him.

"Your name is Arthur Kirkland, right?"

"Yeah, what'sittooya?" He stumbled a bit on the sidewalk, and was more than a little surprised by the strong arms that caught him under his shoulders and steadied his feet.

"Well...you see...I know this is weird, and totally awkward and all...But do you happen to know someone by the name of James Kirkland?" The normally stoic Englishman was speechless for a moment, of all the strange occurrences, he hadn't expected to be questioned about his grandfather by some strange American who'd found him drunk in a bar.

"My Grandfather...Though I don't wanta know how you know 'im...So mind leaving me alone? I have work in the morning and I don't even know what brought me here in the _firs'_ place." And so Arthur began to stumble his way down the street, having attempted to shove the extraordinarily odd American away from him...All he succeeded in doing was making it nearly five feet away before tripping over his own feet and face-planting straight into the unforgiving sidewalk as a pair of college girls giggled by.

It was only a matter of seconds before he was being hoisted to his feet by that damned weird American. And then there was a coat being tossed around his shoulders...It smelled of old leather and a subtle cologne that he couldn't quite name. Another wave of that deja vu nausea combination rolled over him and he nearly fell against that man.

Whose name he'd never quite caught.

"Umm...hate to be rude bloke...But I never did get your name...Or why you're exactly botherin me of all people." He stumbled a forward a bit, falling against the man's chest, it gave him another whiff of that nice and yet still unidentifiable cologne.

"The name Alfred Jones ring any bells?" There was now a strained tone to the taller man's voice, as if was desperately trying to knock some sense into him without actually having to take a sledgehammer to his head and do it the hard way. Once again, the man's brows drew together and he gave the American a long look over.

"I can't say that it does...You do look...faintly familiar though." A strong looking hand reached out and brushed his disheveled hair away from his face, those blue eyes seeming to desperately search his own.

"Just kind of?" Another tone now...Incredulous shock...Something akin to pain, not something he cared to see on such a handsome face...Or at least...It looked handsome right now, even in the orangeish light of the streetlamps.

"Sorry... Alfred right? I'm pretty sure you haven' met you before...Though apologies for my...err...Situation." A hardening of those clear blue eyes as he looked Arthur over in a way that had him torn between blushing and running and tripping the opposite direction. Like he knew every dark secret he'd ever harbored, every whimsically tragic thought that had flitted through his subconscious for the past few months.

When everything had seemed to change and he couldn't remember things properly anymore. When he stopped giving a damn about that asshole Francis that had cheated on him, when he began frequenting this bar on his way home from the office. When he'd never been a heavy drinker before... At first he'd blamed it on an early midlife crisis, but now he wasn't quite so sure.

"Tell me then Arthur, is that a silver watch you're clutching for dear life?"

"Yeah..."

"Let me guess, it has vines around the face, a bit of a crack in the glass and when it ticks you feel like you're missing something?" A flicker of something passed behind Arthur's eyelids...Like a million images trying to pour into the front of his consciousness at once. And again he found himself questioning this increasingly strange reality.

It seemed fragile somehow, like it was balancing on the tiny point of a knife. One slip to either side and pain would be inevitable.

"How do I know you?"

"How do you not?" A newly desperate tone came into the taller man's voice, his hands thumped down on his shoulders, his eyes frantically searching his face. He wasn't sure he'd ever known any man to be so...forward with him. Let alone so passionate to a relative stranger, could have been just some weird American style of flirting, but that was too ridiculous for even him to believe.

It must be a mix up.

"C'mon Arty, think for me. I know this whole thing has been weird, but you told me to be here at this bar...On this day. Remember that? We were at my apartment...And I know it sounds strange, how crazy I must look right now, but you disappeared, but not before telling me to be here." Arthur's head began to pound, so he he broke away from Alfred, trying once more in vain to walk alone into the night.

Naturally, that deep American voice called after him, though it sounded as though it was breaking.

"Please Arthur...At the very least, look at that damned watch and tell me it doesn't remind you of the day we met! I know it wasn't the best circumstances, but I thought...I saw something in you that needed saving, that I wanted to save more than anything else. It was like you were drowning or something. And you were reaching out...And then...Please don't make me tell you what I did for you, it gives me nightmares enough, but I figured since it's _you_... And I would have been here sooner, but you were so damn specific about the night...Please Arthur..._please._" He knew without doubt that the man behind me had started to cry during all of that, and it was a fact that bothered him more than it should have.

It was like there was a drumming in the back of his skull, a pounding...So many things trying to escape at once. His eyes were clouding over again, and yet he knew it wasn't from the drink. He was crying now as well, and he still didn't know why, which was perhaps the most torturous thing of all.

So he did the only thing he could do, the only thing that man apparently wanted him to do...

He pulled that watch back out of his pocket and gazed down on it. Sometimes he couldn't remember how he'd even gotten it, only that he'd had it for what seemed likeforever. That sometimes its ticking haunted his dreams...That when it did work he did always feel as if something was missing, though how this man would have guessed that was beyond reason.

His hand had begun to shake and yet that memory, or whatever it was, remained as elusive as ever.

"I'm sorry Al, I just can't remember." Silence for a painfully palpable moment.

"You called me Al." The tiniest glimmer of hope resurfaced in Alfred's clear blue eyes. "That's got to mean you remember _something_." At this Arthur roughly shoved the taller man away from him, trying for just a moment to find a solid place within his mind. He didn't enjoy thinking in the abstract, and obvious reasons were making it all the more difficult on this frigid evening.

"I-I...I just can't remember. If we do know each other, and I'm quite certain that we _don't_, then I sincerely apologize. You see, my life's been pretty hectic lately, so I honestly can't remember much to begin with. In any case, it's been a relief up til now. I really am sorry though, you look...you act..It seems like you're pretty concerned about me. And that's something that bothers me, it's making my heart hurt to see that look in your eyes even though I'm sure that I have no reason to hurt like that...And you probably think that I'm a slobbering drunk now, but, well I guess you could say that I am. Not been much else for me. You were right about the watch, making me feel weird..." His clover eyes were beginning to grow a bit damp around the edges, tears even though it was a stupid thing to begin crying over.

Alfred stood there for the entirety of this awkward, and slightly hiccupy speech, his eyes narrowing as he studied the confused Englishman. He'd heard of people forcefully forgetting parts of their life, trying to cover up bad memories and the like, and he could very well understand... But it would be a lie to say that he wasn't bothered by Arthur's not remembering him. It felt wrong to laugh it off and part their separate ways, never to see one another again.

For some reason he couldn't stand that thought.

So the two men stood there in silence for a long moment. The American anxiously chewing at his bottom lip in a nervous habit few new of, and the Englishman frantically trying to wipe away tears that crept out of the corner of his eyes. The traffic of the city began to pick up around them as the seconds ticked by on the clock, and yet neither moved nor spoke. It was a shared breath suspended in the winter night.

And then, for apparently no reason at all, a small smile slid across Alfred's face, his blue eyes visibly brightening as it did so. Who was he to be so miserable anyways? If Arthur couldn't remember him, then it was like having a clean slate, they could just start all over, he could make that strange little Englishman fall for him again and again. It would be simple enough really, and maybe one day, when they were older and wiser, Arthur might break that wall holding his memories back and tell him the whole of all that had happened here.

"Would you like a ride home Arthur?" He held his breath and waited for an answer.

An answer that came almost without hesitation when green eyes locked on the blue so stubbornly locked on them. There, just at the corner of Arthur Kirkland's mouth, a smile began to bloom.

"You know, I would like that very much."

When Alfred slid his arms out of his coat and tossed it about his shoulders, Arthur found himself sneaking a sniff at the warm collar, it was a familiar scent, comforting in a way he couldn't describe. And when he proceeded to toss is arm about him, he didn't protest, and instead pulled closer to him, his arm moving of its own volition to wrap about his waist.

Somehow he felt as he'd been here before.

In his pocket, a soft ticking began_._

It was the normally inaudible sound of a heartbeat, and it didn't stop again for a very _very_ long time.

*****xxxx*****

_~The End._

_A/n: I'm pleased with this, though I'm not sure if it's complete enough for everyone else...I just enjoy leaving a little something to the imagination y'know? I really really hope you all have enjoyed this from beginning to end! And if anyone's well...curious...I've already began another tale for Alfred and Arthur, though it has no connections to this one lol, I do hope you might check it out sometime. Thanks again, really! Much love! :3  
_


End file.
